Bittersweet Temptations
by TheDreamiestNightmare13
Summary: Twenty-seven years ago, twin sisters were torn apart by a tragedy. Twelve years ago, an FBI trainee met a cannibalistic serial killer. Finally, two years after being reinstated to the FBI, Clarice Starling is finally living a somewhat normal life. But when a familiar figure emerges set on vengeance, Clarice is forced to confront dark secrets of her own. [Revamped Story]
1. Prologue - Twin Birds

**A/N: Look at my profile if you have stumbled upon my original account "dreamiestnightmare13" and/or read the first version of "Bittersweet Temptations". There's a full explanation there.**

 **If you haven't done either or both of those things, ignore me and enjoy the story.**

 **Warning: This story will include some dark topics such as abuse.**

 **Disclaimer: Silence of the Lambs/Hannibal and, well, anything having to do with Hannibal Lecter is not mine. Most unfortunate. However, I do actually own Audrey.**

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 **Prologue: Twin Birds**

 _Twelve Years Ago_

Silence. Piercing as it was comforting. Exquisite beyond compare.

Her bare feet appeared to echo her thoughts on the matter. Audrey had no desire to be caught nor did she want to break the peace that enveloped the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. If she was being honest with herself, the chances of her getting caught were slim to none. The security system in the hospital was a complete joke. It was as though the last technological update was in the 80s. Not to mention the security guard was actually asleep at his desk. Here she had been thinking about covertly entering through a window. No, not at all.

Just stroll on through the front damn door.

 _Well done proving all those stereotypes wrong. Your parents must be so proud._

At least there wasn't a half empty box of donuts near him. She might have just left at that point.

How much time had she wasted organizing that entrance? Hours? Days? Probably. Half a month's rent down the drain for some stupid blueprints. An annoyed sigh left her lips.

 _Those extra shifts will be agonizing._

Perhaps funds were lacking. Embarrassingly lacking. Hard to believe since the hospital was like a damned castle. Then again, this place was designed to keep criminals _in_. Not many people must want to let out the monsters for shits and giggles. Or, in her case, let out her friend.

Her _only_ friend.

It was a strange concept even to her to slap the relatively juvenile term on the infamous Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Refined, brilliant, silver-tongued… all perfect terms to describe him. BFF and bestie? Not so much. Just the thought of calling him either of those names made her physically cringe. She couldn't even do it as a joke.

There wasn't an easy label to put on their relationship. He certainly was _not_ a father figure. God, no. There could not possibly be enough therapy in the world if that was the case. Protégé? Eh, maybe. But that would imply she was in his shadow, looking to become exactly like him. Yes and no? Their killing methods were similar but her palette was more narrow than his. Unfaithful men were where her tastes lay.

As it seemed, Hannibal did have a taste —no pun intended— for a person such as herself. She knew she was held in a positive light. Her death would have occurred long, long ago if that hadn't been the case. Audrey was sure it was her charm that allowed her to wiggle through most of the castle walls surrounding his heart. If she was honest, he had done the same thing to her. She would never verbally admit it but he could read her like an open book. That was a lot of the 'feelings' portion of their relationship in a nut shell.

Thanks to the copies of the security tapes she had from an orderly who was a bit too friendly, she knew Hannibal was in a good state of mind once again. Took long enough. The absence of a specific individual seemed to be the source of that.

Oh, yes. Will Graham was long gone.

A small smile crossed her lips. Audrey never got tired of that phrase. The relationship between Hannibal and Will was one of the most complicated monstrosities she had ever seen. It was like watching a mouse get emotionally attached to a cat. Then the mouse turned out to also be a cat but when the original cat finally started to treat the mouse-cat like an equal, the mouse-cat tricked the cat into a trap. Then it became a mouse once again and ran away from the cat, never to be seen again.

 _Apparently, no amount of analogies will ever decrease its weirdness._

Will's betrayal shook up Hannibal. He would never admit it. The whole ordeal was simple bizarre. Will had Hannibal's respect —which was no small feat. If Hannibal didn't respect someone… well, Miggs was what happened on a good day.

He got off lucky. Her adopted parents got off luckier. When Hannibal found out what happened… Well, their quick deaths by her hand was the best possibly things to happen to them. A small amount of regret blossomed inside her chest. They truly didn't deserve seconds of pain before blissful darkness. Not after what they had done to her.

A strange groaning sound shook her from the darkest corners of her mind and back into reality. Rather than scurrying off like a frightened deer, she stopped walking and listened. Another loan moan, this time of a distinct feminine variety came from the hallway. Two doors down to be precise. Her indigo eyes narrowed in the direction of the noise before closing them, briefly. Pushing aside her annoyance, she inhaled a deep lungful of the musty smell coming from the old building. A few seconds ticked by as she pieced the situation together.

Oh.

 _Well, that should have been obvious. Considering what I do._

Audrey opened her eyes, amused at the situation. After another minute passed by, she heard another masculine groan. The slapping of skin on skin among many other fun sounds became louder as she continued down the hallway. _Delightful_. They were clearly too busy indulged in each other to hear anything.

As she walked on, a small stinging sensation from her right hand became more apparent. A metallic smell gave away the answer. Bringing her hand up to get a better look, she visually confirmed what her nose already told her: she was bleeding. Not badly. Apparently while mentally revisiting her nightmarish past, she had accidentally dug her nails so hard into her skin she had drawn blood. He was not going to be happy with that. Sighing, she pulled a handkerchief out of her jacket pocket and wrapped it around her self-inflicted wound. An old hair tie she wore around her wrist was the finishing touch to keep it in place.

Taking a right, the couple faded from her mind as she traveled down the cold, stone floor. A red brick wall that sealed off any other way in or out stood in her way. Or so the wall would wish everyone to think. Little did those sheep know, there was a specific brick that if pushed in a particular spot would open a trapdoor.

 _Perhaps those blueprints hadn't been a waste._

Of course, by that point, her opinion of those who worked at the hospital had dropped well beyond the floor. Why the construction team who built this place would construct an access point which would allow anyone to sneak into the maximum security holding without a problem was beyond her. Yes, let's make it easier to access all of the great, insane evils of the world.

 _Perfect._

 _Brava._

Eye roll.

Evil was such a subjective term anyway. A wolf is not evil for killing sheep because that is how it survives. It is simply nature's way. It wouldn't be logical to enclose a wolf in a cage in hopes that it becomes a herbivore. Humans are children of chaos trying desperately to ignore their animalistic roots by clinging to rules made by someone else. The spectrum of good and evil is not black and white: it is entirely made of gray. Given their history, the FBI would better be served at finding evil by looking at a mirror.

Silently, despite her thoughts, she slipped into the tunnel and carefully closed the opening behind her. She then continued her progression to her mark.

Another unusual noise flowing through the corridor, causing her to, once again, pause her advancement. The secret passageway she traveled down presently seemed to be filled with a quiet hum of a classic melody that she could not currently place. But that was not something that she cared to indulge her magnificent brain in. There were far more appealing subjects to ponder upon than anything as petty as a temporarily forgotten hymn. The tune may have been unknown right now to her but the voice was not a mystery. It was one that echoed through her thoughts in the day and haunted her dreams at night. She felt her pale pink lips curve upwards.

She was getting close.

 _Close, please…_

 _Closer…_

Audrey smiled humorlessly at the taunting voice seeping into her mind again. Only on others did she hear that tone. Hannibal had never taunted her. Not with malice intent, at least. He treated her with the highest respect. She was his equal and he was hers. They were two halves of a whole.

Lion and lioness.

Hunter and huntress.

Lucifer and Lilith.

 _Damned forever but damned together._

Audrey thought to herself as she continued forward until she saw thin, rectangular-shaped slivers of light coming from an opening up ahead. The speed of her pace increased upon seeing it. She wasn't even trying to be quiet anymore.

So damn close.

She removed the barrier, setting it down behind her gently. Crouching much like a cat, Audrey surveyed the situation below her. Several pipes ran both in parallel and intersecting formation. They were not precisely close but not impossibly far away either. Also, there was the trivial matter of the three story height to contemplate. Nevertheless, it was an easy feat to get to the ground. Impossible for most, yes, but not for her.

With a considerable amount agility, she managed to reach the unforgiving floor of the so-called dungeon. She silently swore as her wrapped hand angrily voiced a complaint. Audrey knew that he knew she was there. The obvious sign was the lack of music in the air but his unparalleled sense of smell would have given her away. Or at least let him know of someone else's presence.

A wave of heat hit her body and she unzipped her black leather jacket to cool off. The acrobatics must have gotten to her more than usual. Her black painted fingers straightened the crimson tank top with black intricate lace she had worn underneath it. She brushed off some dust that had visibly gathered on her distressed black jeans. Nimble fingers turned her choker until the maroon rose was centered at the base of her throat. Thorn-covered stems swirling elegantly over her skin until they met at the back of her neck.

Walking on her tip-toes in a more than cliché sneaking manner, she approached the cell of the renowned psychiatrist, passing by the three empty cells that had once belonged to the other sociopaths. When she passed by Miggs' cell, she had to fight back a snicker as she recalled Jack Crawford's call.

 _Miggs is dead._

 _"Dead? How?"_

 _"They heard Lecter whispering to him all afternoon and Miggs crying… They found him at bed check. He'd swallowed his own tongue."_

Bugging the FBI phone lines had definitely been worth the risk.

She walked closer to the last room…

 _Closer…_

Just until she was just a few feet away…

 _Closer…_

Finally, she reached the cell. The simple act of standing in front of glass cage sent a chill down her spine while simultaneously filling her chest with great sadness. He really was caged like some sort of animal. A zoo exhibit for all the fools to come see thinking they could pick his brain so they could make an easy buck off his name. Slowly, Audrey approached the bulletproof glass until she was but mere inches away. Somehow, she refrained from touching it. Even with her wonderful night vision, she could see no movement. Just darkness.

For a single moment, she almost believed that he wasn't there.

 _Stupid._

 _Idiotic._

 _Naïve._

 _What the hell is wrong with you?_

But a familiar voice consisting of both rich velvet and piercing metal struck through the air like a recently sharpened knife. It was European but not of a mainstream country. Lithuanian, if memory served her correctly. Calm confidence vibrated through the air. It took every bit of self-control to contain all her emotions.

"And to what occasion do I owe the pleasure of this obviously unauthorized visit, Clarice?"

 _Seriously?_

When she didn't reply, shuffling could be heard from inside the cell. A figure sat up on the small cot and turned his body in her direction. A long inhale could be heard in the figure's direction. "You are not Clarice," he stated as his voice taking on an unusually curious tone.

 _Damn._

It did hurt to know he did not remember her smell. Instead of letting the pain shine through, she took a different approach. One only she could get away with. One of sass and tease.

A devilish smile curled on her coral lips as the dimmed light glistened off her unusually extended incisors. "Quite the adept deduction," she replied coyly as her hands moved to her hips. "You know, I have always thought rather favorably of you, my dear. Although, it would seem I now find myself quite offended by your lack of knowledge concerning my identity. Do you not remember who I am, Hannibal?"

A few seconds went by. Satisfaction coursed through her veins. It was not everyday someone could render him speechless. But she wasn't just anyone.

Her unannounced, seemingly random appearance probably had a lot to do with it.

"Audrey?" Hannibal's voice was but a whisper. Disbelief coated his tone. "I did not think I would ever see you again." The faint notes of hope intertwined in his words almost broke her. He was not someone who expressed emotion but her surprise visit had briefly lowered his walls. If Audrey was to be perfectly honest, the visit was having the same effect on her.

Hannibal stood gracefully and moved towards her. He stayed a few feet distance away from the glass. The doctor studied her as she did him. Audrey noted he looked as though he had lost some weight but other than that, he seemed healthy. Well, as healthy as one can be when locked up like an animal. It was rather strange seeing him in the hospital getup instead of an expensive suit. As her eyes went back to his, she saw a lingering glance at her right hand. She would need to explain that.

"You could never get rid of me that easily," Audrey replied teasingly but it was forced. She desperately had to get out of her emotional sinkhole or it would swallow her whole. His face mirrored her thoughts. "I thought for a fearful second that this inhumane cage you have cruelly been trapped in had begun to desecrate that magnificent brain of yours."

"Never," Hannibal retorted, a smile clear in his tone. It was so easy to fall back into their past banter. As if no time had passed at all. "That incompetent Chilton may take away every other freedom I might so meagerly attain in this dungeon, but he will never rob me of my thoughts. I can promise you that, my dear."

 _Then why did you forget me?_

 _Stop being petty, dammit._

Moments passed by as they just stood there, enjoying each other's presence. Memorizing details. Knowing this would be the last time they would see each other for a while. Or however long it took him to break out of the hospital. He would undoubtedly come to see her immediately.

It was Audrey who finally broke the silence. "How have you been?"

Appreciation at her concern was reflected in his eyes. "As good as one can be considering the circumstances that I have endured in for the last eight years," Hannibal responded with a faint sliver of bitterness.

Audrey nodded understandingly. She was all too familiar with what it was like to be in a position of entrapment and unable to do anything about it. It was actually the reason she knew Hannibal in the first place. He had saved her. While the sexual abuse did not come until after his trial, her adopted parents had always been horrific. Audrey owed her life to Hannibal. "I can't believe it's been eight years."

An emotion she could not name flickered over his features. "Neither can I, Audrey."

There was a another pause.

"I was at your trial, Hannibal."

"I know. I saw you," He took a deep breath. "Although it was nice to see a friendly face in a sea of sharks, I really wish you hadn't gone. It was not my finest hour, let me assure you."

"I owed you that at the very least." She lowered her gaze to the ground but her eyes didn't focus on anything in front of her. "But nothing could've stopped me. Not even my foster parents —for lack of a more appropriate name to call them seeing as they were not around. Now I'm thankful they weren't because when they were around, everything was so much worse. They were horrified when they found out that their foster daughter had been spending the majority of her life with a serial killer. But I think it had less to do with my safety and more to do with their reputation." She laughed bitterly. "They attempted to punish me, but I just ran away. They couldn't keep me there anymore. I saw nothing that could possibly hold me back."

His eyes narrowed just slightly. Clearly, he had picked up on the lies involving her foster parents. He hated it when she lied to him. Audrey involuntarily flexed the fingers in her right hand causing it to draw his attention again. A question was on his mind but he did not ask it right away."You always were absurdly obstinate…"

He was catching on and she felt panic rise in her throat. Hannibal didn't need the distraction of knowing what happened after he was hauled off. She laughed but it was hollow. "Says the man that would refuse to listen to 'Goldberg Variations' on a CD because he claimed that it messed up the C and D notes even after the record player broke—"

"Audrey, look at me."

She could never deny him when he used that authoritative tone. Indigo connected with maroon as he read her like an open book. He could see the hurt and pain she had tried to hide. Anger flashed in his eyes but not directed at her. "Tell me what happened."

He was breaking past her barriers with ease. She had wanted to enjoy a few more moments of normalcy before having that conversation. Without hesitation, her posture became defensive as her arms crossed over her chest. "My problems are not your burden to bare."

"I will be the one to decide that. Not you." A terrifying calmness overtook him. His words rang finality. "Tell me, now."

Their eyes locked in a challenging stare but it was futile. Her shoulders sagged in defeat. "My foster parents. After you were put away, they—" Audrey's voice faltered and broke. She swallowed hard and tried again but no sound would come out.

He got the message and his cold rage was tangible. "How long?"

"Six months." Audrey swallowed hard. "I think. I was locked up so I'm not entirely sure." She would not cry. She would not cry. Dammit, she would not cry. "But you don't need to worry about them."

Dark laughter came from his throat. "I would beg to differ—"

"Because they're dead."

A questioning eyebrow shot up at her deadpan tone. "Explain."

"I killed them." Audrey gave him a humorless smile that faded immediately. The tears in her eyes dried.

Hannibal went silent, seemingly taking in everything for a solid thirty seconds. Her words, her expression, her body language, her bloodied hand. Thankfully, there was no need to explain that one. Apparently, he was drawing his own conclusions.

The rage melted away —or simply faded to the back of his mind for later use. "Interesting coincidence. I have been hearing whispers of a new serial killer on the rise. While the media is having a field day with their beloved Buffalo Bill, it seems someone has slipped under their radar. Six kills over the last eight years have been reported within the same confines. Unfaithful men seem to be their taste —quite literally it would seem. The victims are always missing a body part. For this, they have dubbed her 'The Black Widow'." His maroon eyes glittered with glee, previous anger forgotten. "Now, you wouldn't know anything about a cannibalistic, female serial killer with a delightful appetite for adulterers, would you, my dearest Audrey?"

A smirk curled on her lips. One of the many things she adored about him was his ability to not push anything emotionally with her. The death her foster parents received at her hands was a far more merciful one than what he would have done. Hers was one of passionate hatred and it was over relatively quick. Hannibal would have taken his time and tortured them properly. He was ferociously protective over her. There was nothing he could do about the past but she saw the shadow of his rage behind his eyes. Anyone who knew what her foster parents had done would be at the top of his list.

That knowledge was enough to grant her peace. Hannibal always did his best to protect her. He would never forgive himself for allowing them to continue living. Especially not with what happened. There would most certainly be hell to pay.

"Come, now. Have you forgotten our little game? I will only answer if you tell me something in return." Mirth danced in her eyes. "Quid pro quo, Doctor."

All the teasing seemed to drain out of his face again. Yet again. At first, she was rather confused. All she said was…

Audrey remembered the tapes.

 _"Quid pro quo, Doctor."_

 _Oh._

 _No._

 _Fuck._

Audrey mentally smacked herself for her foolish behavior. So much for any kind of pleasant visit. A friendly chat had become a therapy session. Lovely. In fact, the emotional roller coaster they were on was disorientating. Thankfully, she had decided to go with an extra strong dose of sedatives for the orderlies and the guard rather than just the strong one. The visit had gone on for quite a bit longer than expected.

"Say that again."

The sudden sharpness in his voice startled her a little. She tried to play innocent. Stupid, stupid idea. "Say what again—?"

"Quid pro quo. Repeat it, please."

She was in so much trouble. "May I ask why?" Too high pitched. Dammit.

Hannibal ignored her question and stared at her rather unnervingly.

Damn, damn, damn. "Fine." A deep breath. "Quid pro quo, Doctor," she allowed her former West Virginian accent to sink into the words with a grimace on her lips.

She didn't have to wait long for the eruption.

Suddenly, he was closer. So close that his breath fogged up the glass. Maroon eyes flashed but she did not back up. Audrey held her ground. Fear was not something she felt around him. "Precisely how many secrets have you foolishly been keeping from me, my dear?"

Audrey took a small step forward so that all that was between them was the thick piece of glass. She raised her chin up and returned his piercing stare with her own. "I do not keep secrets from you, Hannibal. I didn't even know until recently that my sister was in the FBI, let alone interviewing you. What a fun surprise that was." She didn't even try to hide her bitterness. "And let me remind you that you had not known of her existence up until a few weeks ago. Tell me, Hannibal, what purpose would it have served to tell you eight years ago when you had no knowledge of her? None. And as far as my foster parents' actions, I did not want to distract you from your plans for escape but it was one of the reasons I came here tonight. I don't like to keep things from you." She jabbed her finger at the glass, where his chest would be. "And I'm allowed to be protective of you too, dammit!"

They glared at each other. Like a married couple in the midst of a quarrel.

Idiots, the pair of them.

"You could have written it to me."

How he was able to go from dangerous to the Hannibal Lecter equivalent of pouting was beyond her.

She scoffed. "And have that unbearable bastard, Chilton, read it? I think not. He already gives her enough pervy hell as it is without having the knowledge that her twin sister is The Black Widow, killer of nine."

"Oh, really? Have the major news networks not blessed the globe with their infinite knowledge and riveting commentary on the subject?"

"No, surprisingly. It was a Senator, though. Shouldn't be too long before word gets out."

"I would imagine so."

Talking about her killings was a sufficient distraction. Probably his intent. A blissful sigh left her lips. "Oh, how I wish you would have been there. It was magnificent. The man, from just the surface, appeared to be happy with being the father of three and having a loving, beautiful wife who is always there for him. He was secretly cheating on her." A giggle bubbled up to her lips that to any other ear would have been brimming with madness.

"My dear, as much as I am in agreement with your decision, I must admit that your reasoning behind it is rather lacking. An adulterous politician is not an uncommon occurrence."

A twisted smile appeared on her lips. "I didn't realize keeping up with the amount of people we killed was so important, Hannibal. After all, we both kill and eat the rude. Your palette is just more open than my is." A small shrug rolled off her shoulders. "You would have thought we would be awarded for our efforts of wiping humanity of its blemishes instead of being hunted down by those who have failed to do so."

"An interesting take but nonetheless, quite true."

Maroon eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul as he examined her. "I never would have guessed you were her sister. Though I do see some facial structural similarities."

Audrey shrugged. "You have not seen me for eight years, Hannibal. I have changed from that little girl playing Bach in the piano shop to a young woman. I would not blame you for not recognizing the relation between the two of us. No one has before. I doubt they will now."

Hannibal continued to examine her. "Given the lack of age differences, I imagine you two are fraternal twins. May I take another assumption in deducting that you were sent off to foster care at the same time that she was sent off to the cousin's ranch?"

"Yes. Our cousins could only take one of us. They choose her. But my misfortune changed when I decided to play the piano at a music shop and a nice man offered me piano lessons." Audrey smiled kindly at him. "And the rest is history."

"I have to admit, that was the most beautiful playing that I had heard in a long time. I could hardly believe that you were as young as you were." Hannibal smiled as well. There was a moment of blissful happiness before he went on to a more serious matter. "So, my dear Audrey, why is it that you have come here? And please, refrain from lying. As good as you are at it, I will still know."

 _Clearly not as good as I thought I was._

Taking a deep breath, she answered. "The second reason is… well… I came here to ensure my sister's safety."

 _Fucking liar._

 _Half-lying. Only half._

Ignoring her thoughts, she continued. "I know you will eventually get out —it is rather inevitable as we both know— and she has enemies— enemies that will harm her. I also know that you have enemies that —if it is found out of your fondness to her— they will most likely use that against both of you."

Hannibal tilted his head slightly, indicating for her to continue. "Even since I found out of our relation, I have done my best to keep her safe. I'm okay, for now, in regards to protecting her, but I cannot do it alone, Hannibal. I know you care for her. It's rather obvious in the security footage I have seen of your conjugal visits together. She tried to deceive you a few days ago, foolish as we both know. If you had not cared for her the way you did, you would not be feeling a sense of betrayal right now." Audrey paused to allow her words to sink in. "I know you're going to escape in Memphis. That makeshift handcuff key that you've been creating —don't be shocked that I know. Why else would you keep staring at Chilton's beloved gold pen as he lay there mocking you yesterday?— is what you're going to use, isn't it?"

Pride for her glittered in his eyes as a sly smile formed on his lips. "It appears that I have perhaps taught you a little too well, my dear."

"I would expect nothing but the best from you." After a moment, Audrey looked at her watch, realizing the time. "Hannibal, the orderly will be waking up in the next three to five minutes. Can you please do me that favor of helping me protect Clarice?"

 _Protecting her, never seeing her again, forgetting who she was…_

 _Same thing, really._

Her sister's name felt foreign and strange in her mouth. She didn't like it.

He seemed to consider it for a couple of seconds, but they both already knew his answer.

"Alright. I will assist you. And to answer you from before… I will not deny any of your allegations that you have set upon me nor will I refute any of the assumptions you have insinuated thus far. But I will also not agree to them either."

 _Of course he likes her._

 _Good. Good. Fantastic._

 _Were you truly expecting anything different?_

Didn't stop the green-eyed monster within her from opening its eyes.

A smirk curled on her lips instead. "You never can make it easy, can you?"

"Where would the fun be in that, my dear? Are you suggesting that I live a boring life and allow my enemy's lives to be just as dull? Come now. I _do_ have a reputation to live up to."

Audrey laughed at that. "And lest we forget about your massively over-sized ego…"

"Oh, never, Audrey, never. That would be simply criminal —pardon the pun if you will."

There was a groan from down the hallway, suggesting that one of the orderlies had begun to awaken. "I'm sorry, but I need to—"

"Go," he stated simply, gesturing to the hall.

"Alright. I will…" Audrey put her hand up flat against the glass, smiling sadly. "Good-bye, Hannibal Lecter."

He likewise put his hand up to the glass, opposite of hers. She swore she could feel his body heat through the barrier. "Until we meet again, Audrey Starling."

Never before had she hated that name so much in her life. Nor had she experienced such a hatred since her foster family. Clarice would live for now. Protected by Hannibal's feelings.

A snarl curled on her lips as she left.

 _One day, he_ will _be mine._

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 **A/N: Poor Audrey.**

 **Until the next chapter…**

 **Ta ta,**

 **Dreamiest Nightmare**


	2. Chapter 1 - Domino Effect

**A/N: Thank you, my darlings, who are enjoying this. Another thank you for those you PMed me. It makes me happy that others find it interesting. It really is a thrill like no other to know others enjoy the work that I love doing.**

 **I am using (most of) the ending of the movie, _Hannibal_ , for this particular story. I do believe that I mentioned that this story is a combination of the books and the movies, but if I have not, you all now know.**

 **Oh, and one last thing. Some of you may be having a hard grasping what Audrey looks like. The "book cover" I made for this story contains both Audrey and Clarice in it. If you want to know exactly what she looks like, there it is.**

 **Also, as you could tell in the Prologue, this story will be touching on some extremely dark topics. I'm sorry if it causes anyone discomfort.**

 **Disclaimer: Look at the Prologue for it.**

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 **Chapter 1: Domino Effect**

Eighty-two minutes. Eighty-two fucking minutes. Hell could not possibly be worse than this. No god would be that cruel. Not even to the damned. On second thought, if this was to be her eternal torment, she wanted a damn refund. Though perhaps she was past the point of no return on this round. Well, if that was the case, she might as well enjoy the ride down to pit if that was to be her destiny. And through all the uncertainties that came with complexities of religion, there was one thing she was absolutely certain of:

Hell would be this damned beige waiting room in the FBI.

She had gone through almost every stage of impatience in the last —her eyes cut to the clock — eighty-three minutes. Her position had changed no less than a dozen times in the short-term comfort, standard issue, waiting room chairs. Her body posture had hit the entirety of the spectrum: from classy and professional to passed out on tequila. Now, however, she had managed to circle back around to looking like a semi-normal person in public. Which was saying something considering the word 'normal' had been pretty much erased from her vocabulary.

Audrey's eyes nonchalantly surveyed the cameras in distaste through her lashes. They had to be fake. Or no one was watching her. Logic dictated that _someone_ would have drug her out by now. Her behavior had a tendency to get increasingly weirder the longer she didn't think anyone was watching. Although, from what she had seen as of late, the FBI seemed to constantly have logic on back order.

Through some kind of superpower, she had so far refrained from picking at the polish on her newly painted black nails. But Audrey was desperate for entertainment. Almost anything would do at this point. Her eyes glanced over to the black screen of her phone out of sheer habit. An exasperated sigh left her red painted lips as she silently reminded herself for the umpteenth time that it was dead. Like an absolute idiot, she had forgotten to charge it the previous night. One would think that a woman with eidetic memory would not need reminding. Perhaps her brain was decaying from lack of stimulation.

More importantly, how was there absolutely nothing of interest happening inside the FBI? It was so bland. She could be sitting in a dentist's waiting room for all she knew. From all the crime drama shows on television, shit seemed to go down everyday. She had been in DMVs with more excitement. Hell, standardized school tests were more entertaining than this.

Not to mention room was empty. There was no one to psychoanalyze. No one to give a touch of mental anguish on the way out with a small, devastating phrase whispered ever so gently.

The magazines were bland. Audrey had tried to read them. It was plan 'B' after her phone died. Somehow they were worse than doing nothing. She wasn't a sports lover nor did she care to be told what her body should look like and what she could change in her life to attract a man. For the life of her, she couldn't think of anyone who still read magazines. But it wasn't as though she was being bombarded with offers of friendship left and right.

Audrey frowned as her brow furrowed. Did she actually have friends?

No names came to mind.

 _Well, that's depressing. Wonderful._

Oddly enough, it had never dawned on her to have human companions before. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. There were people she spoke to and interacted with but it seemed strange to create meaningful bonds when she ate other humans. It was like a cat asking a mouse to hang out when mice remains were locked away in their freezer. She couldn't wrap her head around it.

In her defense, it wasn't as though there was a rule book on being a cannibalistic serial killer. But was that truly where she was at in her life? So indescribably bored with everything that she wanted come kind of regular human interaction?

God help her.

Plan 'C' had gone out the window the second she realized (through an elaborate show for the possibly functioning cameras that included the old searching-a-nonexistent-contact-on-the-floor routine) there was no possible way to bypass the lock. Why would you need to have your receptionist do a rectal scan to enter her place of work? The only conclusion she could come up with was the security measures were there in case this exact situation came up. Apparently, she was not the only one who enjoyed action movies and had too much time on their hands.

Tick, tick, tick…

Audrey threw a glare at the clock's second hand as it continued to mock her. It was growing harder to ignore the ticking as if the volume was being raised. Her head fell back with another sigh on her lips and the top of her head gently brushing the wall. Not even a pattern on the ceiling. Just smooth, solid white. She closed her eyes.

 _For fuck's sake, just get on with it and kill me already. Death has to be better than this._

 _All good things come to those who wait…_

The soft words descended through the darkness in her mind in an entirely too familiar voice. A snort was accompanied by an eye roll. Recently, the voice of Hannibal that lived in her head seemed to have taken on a taunting nature. Before everything went to absolute shit, his velvety vocals would have calmed her. Made her feel warm and at home. Now they only brought waves of annoyance and frustration. No comfort.

Having patience was one thing. She didn't mind a little wait. But over a decade? And his first letter of correspondence was just instruction about giving Clarice a letter from him? Come now, Doctor. That's just plain rude.

 _I am not going to be your fucking friend texting the girl you like to see if she likes you back. I have so much more dignity, feminine pride, and self-respect than to lower myself to doing such a demeaning task._

Yet here she was. Doing just that.

What a lovely world she lived in.

A small voice of reason reminded her that he surely had his reasons for the radio silence. That she should appreciate his trust in her to deliver that letter. That everything he did had a reason. That if he didn't care, she wouldn't be living in a house he bought her. Or driving the car he bought her. Or financially stable for the first time in her life.

 _If he truly didn't care, he wouldn't._

At thirty-seven years old, one would think that she would be beyond being passive aggressive. But that was simply not how life worked. It wasn't as though she minded confrontation but being a grown adult, that sort of behavior was frowned upon. Particularly if one was trying to not draw attention to herself. So pettiness it was. And her pettiness had wanted to burn that fucking letter.

She almost went through with it too, but only an edge got singed before she pulled it away from the flame. As much as she wanted to burn that thing, Audrey felt like doing so was betraying him. Despite all her hurt and anger, she would not return the favor. That being said, it did not stop the murderess from throwing the envelope at the wall like a child.

Suddenly, the knob was turning and front door was opening. Well, Audrey was pretty sure it opened. She was too busy seeing stars. Her body had jumped at the unexpected noise causing her to smack her skull on the wall. Feeling disgruntled and a bit embarrassed, she tenderly rubbed her head. Oh, there was definitely going to be a knot. Fantastic.

Her self-pitying motions screeched to a halt, however, when she opened her eyes to see the most stereotypical receptionist the world had ever seen walk past her. Audrey couldn't stop herself from staring incredulously at the woman. It was like she had wandered off a porn set. Busty, blonde, those black rectangular frames every woman seemed to wear in movies. A inch-too-short pencil skirt, heels, and just one to many buttons undone on her hideous pastel top.

 _Heaven hath forsaken me. I truly am in hell._

The receptionist scanned in and went to her desk, shutting the door without even a backwards glance. Didn't even ask if she was okay or apologized for the long wait. Audrey's eyes narrowed. Rude. She might have to make an exception to her normal diet.

Standing up, she walked over to the counter and… nothing. Regret at leaving her Spyderco Civilian in the car started to creep into her mind. No matter. Audrey could kill with her bare hands. Or a chair behind her.

She forced herself to gently knock on the opaque glass and an annoyed sigh came from the other side. Keys jangling followed by an unlocking click could be heard. The woman then slid the glass to the side and continued typing. "Yes, how can I help you?" she asked in, possibly, the most monotoned voice Audrey had ever heard.

 _Oh, I'm sorry. Am I disturbing you from doing your damn job correctly? My bad._

A polite smile as fake as the receptionist's boobs made its way onto Audrey's lips. "Is Clarice Starling here?"

No answer. Just more typing.

Audrey blinked a couple of times out of sheer astonishment to the situation. She almost wanted to laugh. No way this was happening. No way this was real life. How could an individual be so rude to someone they just met?

Impossibly remaining calm, she flashed her most charming, patient smile that, in all honesty, probably made her look like the cheshire cat. "Ma'am?"

"She's not here right now. She's out." The receptionist went back to work typing, clearly dismissing her.

This woman was really pushing her luck. Her free hand curled into a fist. Through bared teeth, she managed, "In the field?"

"That information is classified and not available to non-agents."

 _Oh, no._

 _I don't fucking think so._

The entire reason she was supposed to deliver the stupid damned letter was to keep a low profile. It was why she was wearing an itchy blonde wig and uncomfortable brown contacts. It was why she was here and not at home asleep.

 _I got up before noon for this, dammit._

The personification of irritation sitting before her had the audacity to give her a look over those obviously fake glasses as if asking her, 'Really? You're still here?' Death was imminent for this one. But not here. She had better self-control than that.

While planning for —she checked the name plate (really? For the receptionist? How much money did the FBI just have to blow on nonsensical things?)— Barbara's torture-filled death, Audrey looked at the clock behind her before turning back around. Without Audrey's eyes on her, Barbara had apparently tried to subtly start sliding the glass shut. Just to be petty, Audrey put a bit more of her weight on the countertop and placed her hands in the way of the glass. "Well, she and I were supposed to go out to lunch together at one o'clock and it's now 1:21. Do you have any idea when she might be back?"

 _Should've been an actress._

"Nope."

Audrey tilted her head and stared at Barbara through narrowed eyes. The polite facade was starting to crack. "Okay—" She cleared her throat and faked looking at the stupid name plate. "—Barbara. Could you at least let me in and point me in the general direction of her desk? I promise I won't disturb you anymore."

"Unauthorized personnel are not allowed in the main building unless they have permission from an administrator or other supervised official," Barbara recited dismissively, still not bothering to look up at her. She was clearly quoting some FBI manual and thought she sounded smart. In reality, she sounded like a bitch.

In the end, it really didn't matter how smart she thought she sounded because Audrey's self-control snapped in half. Leaning further into the camera's blind spot, she growled out under her breath. "Look at me."

Barbara froze in her chair at her menacing tone. The change in her demeanor was a satisfying one. Slowly but surely, her green eyes slowly made their way to Audrey's indigo ones. And while she took her sweet time doing that, Audrey memorized every personal item in that office area with one sweeping glance.

"Now, I want you to listen and listen well." Her voice was like poisoned honey as she spoke almost insultingly slow to the idiotic woman. "I need to access Clarice Starling's desk. Whether or not you think you will allow me to do so is your business, but I would _highly_ advise you to think carefully before answering. Your son —Benjamin, right? Age three, sandy blonde hair, and dark brown eyes? Currently in pre-school?" The other woman's face went a delightful pasty white. "It would be a pity to have to, ah, _deal_ with him." Her lips split into a menacing smile to punctuate her words. Fear was, after all, the best at changing one's behavior.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Barbara's hand stray over to the phone. Oh, she thought she was a clever girl, did she?

"Oh, honey, you don't want to be doing that," Audrey said smoothly with the deadly casualness that came easy with being a serial killer. She could feel her body relaxing into the familiar predator territory of threatening someone's life. But it wasn't the child she would kill. She would not kill a child. Their horrifically obnoxious mother? Oh, yes. In a heartbeat. Regardless, watching the fear on her face was still fun though. "Let's recall little Benjamin, hmm?"

"Who are you? What do you want?" Her voice shook as panic clearly set in.

A chuckle left her lips, only further terrorizing her future victim. "It's not important who I am. All I want to do is deliver this to Agent Starling. Now," she gestured to the door with a charming smile. "Allow me inside, please."

* * *

After delivering the letter to her sister's desk, she strolled out of the building as if she owned it. Audrey had been in the damn place for so long, the weather had noticeably heated up. She took off her gloves and placed them in her jacket. Still warm. Audrey shrugged off the jacket and hung it over her arm as she entered the parking garage. Before reaching the cool shade of the concrete structure, her exposed skin soaked up the sun's rays appreciatively. There was a light breeze but her backless, long sleeve dress allowed for the perfect balance of the elements.

Only when she was inside her McLaren P1 did she finally begin the long process of unwinding. Thank god, or whoever was listening, that whole ordeal was over. It only made her already questionable emotional stability even more unstable. It was remarkable that Barbara was still alive. There weren't that many women who made her want to kill them.

She needed a drink and a nap.

A bit more aggressively than she intended, Audrey pulled out of her parking spot with minimum difficulty and approached the gate. She rolled down her window, ticket in hand. A low whistle greeted her.

Goddammit. This was why she couldn't have nice things.

An idiot with a confidence level he did not deserve stuck his head out of his window and stared at her car appreciatively before swinging that gaze in her direction. "Nice ride. What's she go?"

Audrey slowly turned her head and gave the guard a sarcastic smile. Grimace was probably more accurate. It appeared his coworker was in an equal amount of pain as she was and looked at her apologetically. "As hard and fast as she wants."

The asshole obnoxiously smacked on some gum with his mouth open and a sad attempt at a seductive smile on his lips. "Oh, yeah, baby?"

 _Fucking hell._

She wrinkled her nose at that. She hated it when people called other people that. So belittling. It had a sickeningly juvenile air to it. "And do you know what she wants?"

He was practically orgasming in his pants. "What, babe?"

 _To kill you dead._

"She wants to get the fuck out of here and go home so she doesn't have to deal with a prepubescent child like you."

It was like the entire man became a raisin. Behind him, his coworker was cracking up and reached over him to get her ticket. The man then smacked a button and the barrier lifted. He gave her a salute of sorts and grinned widely. "Have a wonderful day, ma'am."

She returned the smile and nodded once. "You too," Audrey replied politely as she put her car in gear and drove off.

When she was a safe distance away, she pulled off to the side of a backroad. Audrey couldn't remove the wig and contacts fast enough. As soon as they were off her body, she felt herself relax a little more. She snatched the avatar sunglasses in the cup holder and put them on before taking off again.

Audrey drove like a manic back to her home. Road rage was a horrible trait of hers but driving while angry had an odd release for her. She felt so powerful behind the wheel. It was like nothing could stop her. Same reason she enjoyed running at night. The whole thing cleared her head better than any medication.

She yanked the front door open and slammed it close. There was now a dent in the wall from the door handle but she couldn't be bothered to give a damn. Audrey then proceeded to kick off her burgundy platform pumps in the most chaotic manner possible. They landed haphazardly, with one knocking off a vase she had bought from an art auction a few weeks ago. She stared at it accusingly, as if everything was its fault. Huffing, she stormed by it without a second glance.

Audrey entered her kitchen like hurricane winds upon glass. A familiar smell wafted through the air. Was that his fucking cologne? Good lord, she was imagining smells now. Pathetic.

She threw down her jacket and sheathed blade beside the stove. Yanking open the liquor cabinet with almost a strong enough force to rip off the door, she grabbed a bottle of fire whiskey. Audrey snatched a glass from the fancy little display she had. No fifth for her. The whole glass was pretty much full before she stopped pouring. She brought the glass to her lips and chugged it down like it was a timed Olympic event. The familiar warm burn down her throat was exactly what she needed. A blissful sigh came from her lips as she set the glass back down. Feeling better all ready.

Without rhyme or reason, she glanced down at the drawer she was in front of. Audrey knew it well. She slowly opened it, sadness creeping over her upon seeing the contents. Inside laid an open decorative red box containing a dark, brass-encased Harpy eagle talon with a matching chain. At one time, it had an almost supernatural comfort but now it only brought sorrow. She gently moved it aside to see familiar, elegant script written on heavy, expensive paper.

 _My dearest Audrey,_

 _As you probably are aware of by now, I have escaped imprisonment. My current whereabouts I cannot disclose in this letter, due to the risk that this might be seized. Although it is rather unlikely, I do have to be careful. It is not that I do not trust you—there should never be a doubt about my trust in you, my dear. It is just simply that the sense of freedom is an indescribable pleasure after being locked away like an animal for eight years._

 _Which brings me back to my original purpose of writing this letter to you. I do believe that I missed your eighteenth through twenty-fifth birthdays. And for that, I do apologize. In my defense, I did not have the ability to send things to people from my cell. As we both know, Doctor Chilton does enjoy his petty torments. I trust that you will enjoy my gift. For the next few weeks, you will receive gifts for every birthday I missed. I know that you most likely will be hesitant in accepting them as they are quite expensive. Do not worry. I have plenty of money._

 _This necklace is for your eighteenth birthday. I do hope that you will remember me when you wear it._

 _I now wish you well until we meet again, which will hopefully be soon. Until then, my dear…_

 _Ta,_

 _Your Hannibal_

 _P.S. I do plan on keeping my promise._

True to his word, over the next few weeks, there were seven more packages delivered to her. The first was the key to her current home. A few days later, after she had moved in, a piano arrived. She recognized it as the same one she had played on when they first met. Then came the keys to her car. It must've killed him to get something not at all in the realm of his tastes. All the more reason she loved her red and black beauty. Then came a new wardrobe, then a generous knife collection, his own signed cookbook _The Joy of Cooking_ (how in the world he managed to obtain it was beyond her), and finally her beloved Spyderco Civilian. It was underneath that gift she had received the last piece of communication from him up until this morning. A small simple note. Three words that would haunt her.

 _See you soon._

Twelve years of silence. Perhaps 'soon' was a more relative term than she realized.

But it was that night upon receiving that little note that she realized she had fallen in love with Hannibal Lecter. And she had been damned ever since.

Why did everything have to go wrong? It was perfect —or as perfect as it was going to get. She couldn't wait for her eighteenth birthday back then. Because then she could run away from her horrible parents and be with Hannibal. Oh, yes. She had had a crush on him for as long as she could remember. How could she not notice him as a man? He was like royalty. Elegant, classy, treated her with respect. That was what did her in initially. He was the only one in her life who had ever respected her. And she adored him for it from a very young age. It had taken him running off trying to catch her sister's attention for her to realize it.

A sad smile came to her lips as she traced over the elegant talon. Even back then she romanticized what her life would be with him. A fool she was for thinking she had a shot. She knew better now.

She was there when he was arrested.

The images were burned into her brain. She had been walking down the hospital's hallway on her way to her daily visit to his room when it had happened. She watched the police officers take him away. She had felt like her heart had been stabbed with a knife followed by it shattering into a billion pieces. Shock, grief, and despair were just a few of the emotions that assaulted her being violently. She couldn't eat. She couldn't sleep. Hell, she couldn't function at all. It was as though she had been zombie-fied into a rapid down spiral into an abyss of depression. Her life seemed as though it was falling apart at the seams that Hannibal had so passionately sewn together all those many years ago. She remembered his trial like it was yesterday; every character witness, every juror's expression, every allegation, every argument…the verdict. She remembered their eyes finding each other as they took him away afterwards. His gaze said but one word: Understand.

When she killed her foster parents, she understood. She understood why he was the way he was on a level that Clarice never would. No amount of psychoanalyzing would make her understand any of it. How they were created out of brokenness. How the darkness filled the voids and mended back together the remaining pieces of their humanity. How they became society's monsters because being human was no longer an option.

No, Clarice could never understand.

Her sister got everything. Clarice had no right to complain. Oh, those poor little lambs screamed and they woke you up? Oh, dad died and she had to hear about it?

Gasp.

Did she think her life was bad? That it was so terrible, so horrible, so traumatic that she had nightmares? Poor little thing. Couldn't deal with how lamb chops were made. Yet somehow, _somehow_ , she managed to wrap Hannibal around her little finger. What did she have that Audrey didn't? Besides, of course, the ability to cause Hannibal a horrific amount of pain physically and emotionally.

Audrey would never hurt him. She loved him too much. But that didn't matter. He wanted nothing to do with her. Not romantically. Not even platonically. She meant nothing to him. Her sister was his world. None of what she felt for him mattered.

Hannibal would always belong to Clarice.

After everything she had gone through, after all the hell she had dealt with, her happy ending was snatched away. A single tear ran down her cheek.

 _Fuck her._

Audrey slammed the drawer shut aggressively. She angrily poured herself another glass of whiskey causing a lot of spillage. But she didn't care. She turned away from the drawer so her hip rested against the countertop. Audrey closed her eyes and gently placed the cold glass to her temple. It gave her only a little comfort but she would take it.

As the tension began to leave her body, she could sense something was off. With her eyes still closed, her brow furrowed in confusion. Why was her gut telling her that something was wrong? Strange. There couldn't be anyone inside the house without her knowledge. Hell, no one even knew her house existed. It wasn't on any map. (Not that she regularly made a habit of checking maps.) She even legally changed her last name from 'Chikatilo' to 'Ragno' to further erase all of her past connections. And 'Audrey Starling' by all legal means didn't exist. So, why the _fuck_ —

"Good afternoon, Audrey."

* * *

 **A/N: Ah yes. I do love a cliffhanger!**

 **Fun fact: The last name 'Chikatilo' Audrey mentions is the last name of a Russian serial killer and cannibal, Andrei Chikatilo, who was dubbed the name the "Russian Hannibal Lecter". 'Ragno' is Italian for 'spider'.**

 **If you wish to know exactly what her car looks like, literally just google 'McLaren red and black'. It's the first few images that pop up. Except she has normal doors because those other doors wouldn't work in a parking garage.**

 **Hopefully that cleared up some questions you all might be having.**

 **Any feedback is appreciated!**

 **Ta ta,**

 **Dreamiest Nightmare**


	3. Chapter 2 - Hell Hath No Fury

**A/N: Thank you for all of you who have reviewed. I appreciate the feedback as always.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Look at the Prologue for it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Hell Hath No Fury**

Audrey's eyes snapped open and her dipped head shot up. There he was, in all of his elegant glory. Shoulder leaning against the wall opposite of her and legs crossed casually like it was an everyday occurrence. Dressed up in a new tailored suit and a smirk on his lips. As if the sky itself wanted the moment to be more dramatic, a cloud passed over the sun causing shadows to fall over his features which gave the doctor's face a semi-skeletal look. The reaper himself had apparently paid her a visit, holding a Spyderco Harpy like a miniaturized scythe in his nimble fingers. His thumb stroked the flat side of the blade as glittering maroon eyes regarded her through dark lashes with interest. The glass slid from her fingertips and shattered on the floor near her feet. It only caused Hannibal's smirk to grow wider.

 _How in the ever loving hell did I miss him? I must've walked right pass him—_

Oh. Well, that explained the cologne. Apparently, anger gave her tunnel vision. Good to know. He also had not lost a single ounce of love for theatrics given his dramatic reveal. Also good to know.

With the first shockwave over, another proceeded to hit her in the face. He had watched. The bastard stood there and _watched_ her have an emotional breakdown over him. She knew, _she knew_ , just by looking at him and all his arrogance that he had witnessed the entire thing. He had treated himself to a private, vulnerable moment in her life as if it was some kind of show.

Her wrath returned with a cold vengeance. Without breaking eye contact, she swiftly reached over to her jacket and and grabbed her Civilian. She flicked the blade open and held it in his direction threateningly, her body in a rigid stance. "Get out."

Hannibal's expression morphed to one of hurt but his eyes continued to dance with glee. The doctor snapped his weapon shut and placed it in his pocket. "Audrey, you wound me." He placed his hand over his heart. Audrey was not even remotely amused at the placement. Her look and blade clearly didn't bother him because he took a single step in her direction. "There is no need to be violent."

The mocking was winning him zero points. A snarl curled on her lips. "If you think you can just stroll back into my life after twelve years of _nothing_ , I have some really unfortunate news for you."

Hannibal tilted his head ever so slightly. It was a simple gesture but one that spoke volumes. And one she was all too familiar with. None of this surprised him. He had planned this. Down to the last detail. "My dear, do you think the first time I have seen you since regaining my freedom?"

Deliberate words. Purposeful phrasing. _Not the first time_ he _had seen_ me _… not seen_ each other _. Which means…_ The weapon trembled slightly in her hand as she pieced it together. Her knuckles turned white as her grip tightened. "Have you been spying on me?"

A brow was raised at her incredulous tone. "I did not want to interrupt your transformation but I did wish to check in on you." A darker emotion akin to pride swirled in his eyes. "You have become quite the killer. It is simply a privilege to watch you work." Something must have changed on her face because, for a brief moment, he actually appeared to be offended. But it vanished before she could be sure. "By that, I mean stalking your victims," he smoothly added. "I would not do something so obscene as to watch you in your ritual before the act. Really, Audrey, has your opinion of me dropped that low?"

Obstinate silence answered his question. With a sigh, his chin dropped as if out of exasperation though he maintained his locked gaze with her. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

"I know what I'm going to do to you," she snapped back, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a quick head movement. It was futile to threaten him. That was not lost on her. At that point, her angry words were having the same effect of a house cat meowing at a lion. Not exactly intimidating but she was determined to draw a little blood. Physically or otherwise.

"Oh?" The delighted grin returned. "Do tell."

"I am going to kill you," she fired back viciously but they both knew the emptiness of her words. Even her Civilian drooped in her hand at the absurdity of the statement.

"You couldn't hurt me. Let alone kill me." Hannibal took a few more steps in her direction and she took in equal amount away from him. To her horror, Audrey felt her lower back graze the counter behind her. She didn't need to look around to know that she was trapped. A stove to her left (which she could not get over before he snatched her) and a wall with cabinets to her right. Thankfully, her stance didn't falter. "Besides, my dear… I'm not your type."

If the situation had been any different, she would have cracked up from its ridiculousness. But it only earned a low growl from her. "I wouldn't be too sure of that."

"Do explain to me how I could possibly have been unfaithful." Her mouth opened but words were lost on her. She had nothing. "It's quite alright, my dear. Allow me."

Given that we are currently in a platonic relationship and not _lovers_ —" An obnoxious and unnecessary amount of emphasis on that word. "—as well as the visual display you, albeit unwillingly, presented before me minutes ago, there is but one explanation: You are jealous of your sister as she has held my attention these past years." Cruel mirth flooded into those last few words.

Hearing the words out loud shook her to the very core. The frankness in his voice made it all the more callous. Audrey would rather die than give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to her. It didn't matter his eyes told her he was already very well aware.

"Don't fuck with me," Audrey warned. She had meant her words to come off as harsh but the effect was lost when she had to bite her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. Angry tears filled her eyes but she would not let a single one fall. Self-loathing filled her at showing weakness, especially to him. "You have no idea what you've done to me." Her voice was much quieter and a small waver was clearly audible.

He was now standing a few feet away from her. Her blade was level at his chest but, as much as she wanted it to, the weapon did not taste flesh and blood. She was far too mentally invested in what he had to say for himself. She wanted an explanation. She needed one. She deserved one.

"Yes, I do," Hannibal replied, hands locked behind his back. Not even an attempt at defending himself but he didn't need to. Those three words did far more damage. "If I had stayed, do you truly think you would have become who you are today? No. You needed my absence in your life in order to flourish. Your abandonment issues were deeply rooted in your psyche and, rather than a gradual separation, I decided a 'cold turkey' method was better for you. Yes, I broke you but you, and only you, put the pieces back together. Despite the lies you might have told yourself over the years, you never needed me in your life." Audrey made an involuntary noise of protest resulting in a thorough mental slapping.

 _Shut up, you dolt._

"Upon my return, I expected a healthy amount of growth. Stability. Independence. Perhaps a kill here or there when a slow night trickled in. Imagine my delighted surprise upon watching you hunt. The fluid elegance of your movements and the meticulous seduction of your target… It was as if witnessing the creation of a new masterpiece." His head dipped a little like a subtle bow. "My dear, you have become magnificent."

Audrey continued to glare at him but her fury was beginning to die down. Her gaze no longer held an icy inferno. Deep down, she knew he meant every word but that didn't mean she wanted to accept it. Or had to, for that matter. She was well aware he liked to dabble in the unorthodox.

Her eyes gently shut, allowing her to process the new information without the visual distraction that was Hannibal Lecter. As much as she loathed to admit it, what he said made sense. Audrey wasn't sure if it was a manipulation tactic. If it was, it was a very good one. His words explained everything but she didn't want them to. She didn't want logic and reason. She wanted him to pay. She wanted to make him feel everything she had felt. And, at the same time, she wanted none of that. She wanted to be held in his arms. She wanted that dangerous mouth of his on hers. She wanted…

Quite frankly, she didn't know what she wanted.

Her jaw set stubbornly as she opened her eyes. Audrey had far too much pride to allow him to know her indecisiveness. He gazed at her with a combination of mild amusement and… something else. Admiration? _Not likely._ At the present moment, her trust in him was wobbly at best and the glass of whisky she had chugged down earlier wasn't doing her any favors judgment-wise. Then again, he always did like headstrong people. His history with those he got 'close' to showed that as a reoccurring pattern. Those who would stick to their ways without caving under his gaze. Those who stuck to their wits until the end.

He closed the small gap between them with strides of endless patience. Hannibal had her exactly where he wanted and he was in no hurry. Her hand and eyes followed his movements. When he stopped, the Civilian was at his throat but he gave it no attention. His maroon eyes bored into hers but his facial features had visibly softened. Having him so close to her was a tad distracting. She couldn't help but notice the physical changes. He had aged over the years. It would have been a bit alarming if he hadn't. Though aging had done nothing but improve upon his looks. Touches of wrinkles here and there with a wisp of graying hair above his temples. Some things hadn't changed. Still slicking back his hair, still a little taller than her. She wished she would have kept on her heels.

Hannibal gently touched her wrist, holding it in place as her hand had begun to tremble after keeping her arm up for so long. The physical connection almost made her heart stop. It had been approximately twenty years since they had touched. Perhaps it was the alcohol fogging up her mind, but the physical connection appeared to be having an effect on him as well. His eyes were clearly a shade darker.

Speaking of which, they were close enough now that she could feel his warm breath on her lips. His free hand slowly came up and brushed away some of her loose midnight strands. Hannibal's fingertips danced over her skin as if testing the waters before gently cupping her cheek. She didn't lean into it nor did she jerk away.

Sweat began forming on the palm of her hand. As she moved her fingers to adjust her hold on the Civilian, her nails lightly scratched against his throat. A deep rumble came from his chest.

Such a dangerous game they were playing.

"Audrey." His tongue seemed to caress each syllable. So much was said in that single word. No longer was he mocking her. It was serious. It was intimate.

 _But it could be a lie._

"I would not have caused you pain if I did not find it to be a necessary endeavor." There was a pause. "However, if you still wish to fulfill your desire to harm me, I will not stop you," he said softly. His eyes reflected the sincerity of his words. Or at least they shared the same deception.

Audrey bared her teeth at him but, mentally, at the Civilian. A part of her wanted so desperately for her hand to move. To end all of it. To close this chapter of her life. He had brought her so much pain…

Yet, he was, equally, the beam of light in the abyss. Initially without him, it was like she was falling infinitely in a black void. But she had managed to rise above it. She became The Black Widow. She had moved past most of her issues. She was healing. She didn't need him anymore.

 _Which is exactly what he said. Weren't you listening?_

His thumbnail distractingly grazed her bottom lip, shaking her attention from the voices in her head. Her body went stiff as a board again. She could have sworn his body was even closer than it was before.

He leaned forward, just a hair, forcing the blade flat against the skin of his neck. A flick of her wrist would end this madness. It would be so incredibly easy.

"I am yours to do with as you please." The liquid velvet of his voice was an octave lower than normal. Audrey almost lost her grip entirely on the blade. Thankfully, she didn't drop it. Her pride lived for another day.

Or another thirty seconds.

Stillness overtook the kitchen soon after. The tension was a fog rolling in thicker with every second their breath mingled together. It was as though she had been knocked off her feet by a powerful wave and swept underneath the unforgiving waters below. Turned around without anyway to know which way was up. Her thoughts were muddled. There was no way out. Nothing Hannibal did was accidental. Every move calculated meticulously to perfection. He was always three steps ahead of everyone. Life was a game of chess to him and she was in check.

As Audrey felt herself surrendering to Hannibal, a memory came to mind. Like a bright red buoy bobbing on the ocean's surface. Strangely enough, it was one of the last conversations she ever had with her father…

 _"There's an unspoken rule when playin' chess," he twanged away with that horrid West Virginian accent. "If you're put in a tight corner and it's impossible for you to win no matter which way you're lookin' at it, I have a guaranteed Starling-trademarked secret move to gecha outta it."_

 _Her eyes went wide with wonder. "What is it, daddy?"_

 _"Flip the board!" He grinned and smacked the board, causing her to burst into high-pitched giggles…_

Hannibal's eyes came back into focus as she returned to the present. The emotional panic and indecision was slipping away. Her raw nerves were healing. It was like breathing sweet, sweet oxygen after almost drowning. Her heart hardened, armoring itself for what was about to come. The victory in those depths of his was beginning to melt away. He was noticing the changes in her micro expressions. Determination swept through her veins. It would have to be quick.

 _Let's flip the whole fucking board then._

Audrey's shoulders relaxed and the rest of her body followed their lead. A tilt of the head followed by a slow blink and a smile as crooked as they come. Hooded indigo eyes flickered to his thin lips and she leaned up to meet them with her own. Almost instinctually, his hand drifted into her dark locks while the other loosened from around her wrist.

"Fuck you," she muttered sweetly. Her bottom lip gently brushed his and she heard the breath catch in his throat. Not letting him process the moment, Audrey shoved him away, hard, and ripped away any physical contact in the process. Triumph washed over her body at the genuinely shocked expression on his face. A rare treat and one oh so tasty. He hadn't been expecting it but his reflexes were quick. Hannibal latched onto the counter, right about where she was when he announced his presence. Perfect.

He wasn't the only one who could be theatrical.

 _You want a show? Well, you're on my stage and I'm about to give you a performance worthy of Shakespeare._

She was a predator hunting her prey. Not a damsel in distress. She was a seductress of men. Not a woman irrevocably in love with a man who would never reciprocate it. She was a notorious murderess. Not a plaything to manipulate.

She was Audrey.

Not her sister.

Hannibal would never doubt who he was in the presence of ever again.

Audrey wasted no time and stalked forward towards Hannibal, mindful to not step on shards of glass. The distance closed quickly. It was just icing on the cake that he hadn't recovered a hundred percent. Made it oh so much more satisfying when she molded her body flush against his. Her hands locked like claws onto the edge of the countertop with her wrists facing him. She still had her blade but she no longer needed it. Her body was the only weapon she needed.

The doctor's face was unreadable but he was speechless. Only points of crimson remained visible as his blown pupils seemed to disappear into his irises. A victorious smile replaced the smirk as it seemed his eyes were not the only part of him being affected by her body's closeness. Knowing she had that power gave her a thrill like no other.

Hannibal was good at making the world believe he was above his primal instincts involving intimacy. At the end of the day, however, he was a man. A remarkably intelligent, sophisticated man. But a man nonetheless.

Was this situation against the rules? Possibly. But the rules of the game only mattered if everyone involved wanted to follow them.

"My dearest Hannibal," she purred, head tilting up and to the side, savoring every bit of the situation. Indigo eyes flashing with animalistic hunger. "I am not your human toy you get to obsessively fuck around with until it breaks. You best remember that, darling."

Audrey didn't even bother to linger. Her work was done. Her point was made. Pulling away, she snapped the Civilian shut with a soft click and tossed it near her jacket. Without a single glance behind her, she strolled towards the kitchen's exit with confidence in every step. For the first time in a while, she truly felt in control.

And the sensation was simply euphoric.

She paused at the doorway, lightly caressing the wood paneling with her fingertips. "I'm going to go workout," Audrey announced over her shoulder, focusing her gaze on the door frame. "In the meantime, be a _lamb_ and cook up one of your famous dinners, please. I imagine I will be rather famished after I'm done." She could feel his eyes piercing a hole in her back. It was definitely from her purposeful word choices. "It _is_ the least you could do as you so rudely entered my home without my permission."

Her nails scratched against the wood as she left him there with only his thoughts.

* * *

Fiery shades of orange, yellow, and pink set the evening sky aflame outside the tall, narrow windows. Gothic architecture was a shared love between Audrey and himself. When she discovered it during an art history class, she seemed unable to cease speaking of it for a solid month. So for her fourteenth birthday, he had taken her to Italy. Her Italian was simply atrocious but all was forgiven the second she smiled. Everyone adored her. But all the smiles in the world couldn't hide the brokenness behind her eyes.

Upon escaping from captivity, he had immediately gone to see her. Clearly something had been keeping her from seeing him. No words could accurately capture what he felt upon seeing the rundown apartment complex she had been living in. A graffiti covered bus stopped near the buildings and he watched Audrey exit the vehicle wearing what appeared to be a fast food uniform. He couldn't hear her but he knew she thanked the driver. Always polite.

The people living there were unworthy of her presence.

Her household was created with Audrey in mind: The inside was just as unique as the outside. To any lesser architect, the strange combination of modern and gothic architecture would have been a nightmare. The one he had handpicked to build it accepted the challenge with a rare eagerness absent from most in the workforce. Luckily for the ambitious artist, he understood discretion and money. It would have been a damned shame to be forced to kill such talented youth.

Hannibal's eyes cut away from the large living room windows as the broth before him had sufficiently begun to boil. As much as he would love to get lost in cooking, he kept sliding back to Audrey. The doctor could not shake her from his thoughts.

Others had managed to get the better of him in the past, but underestimation on his part played a rather large role in their success. Without that key factor, Will and Clarice would have failed spectacularly in their deceptions.

No, those two situations did not bother him in the least. In fact, Hannibal found them mildly amusing. He had simply become caught up in Will's friendship and in Clarice's innocence. A simple fix.

Perhaps what plagued his thoughts was how Audrey's deception did not fit into that pattern.

At first, it had. Her choice filled up the box nicely. The bold move to 'kiss' him had thrown him off. His pride was not of such bloated proportions he could not admit that. After witnessing the delectable sight of Audrey in the midst of raw vulnerability over his notes and gift, his suspicions over the years had all but been confirmed: She had feelings for him. Possibly leftover from an unaddressed crush in her youth but he was sure they went deeper. The events afterward proved as much. An undeveloped, fleeting feeling like infatuation would not have elicited such an explosive reaction.

With her affection for him in mind, her move became that much more impressive. When filled with determination, Audrey's self-control was applaudable. A true master of total discipline over her emotions. Even his, as absolute as it was, had faltered under her touch. An intriguing rarity, indeed.

The standard pattern of deception held true. He allowed arrogance over knowing another's psyche go just a hair too far. In this particular case, his mind had slipped back to that fateful night at Chesapeake Bay. How could it not? Despite being fraternal, it was truly remarkable how alike the two were. Both sisters, upon being trapped by him, held equal amounts of stubborn fire and doubt over their own wills in their eyes. Whether or not Audrey had intended the situational similarity to be the core source behind her advantage mattered little. She had pounced on that opportunity regardless.

A delicate brush upon his lips as she whispered her vulgar defiance ever so sweetly. Not even a kiss. A teasing caress. He had felt the words before hearing them but, by then, it was far too late: Hannibal had fallen into her trap.

Quite a strange situation, being the puppet rather than the puppeteer. The doctor should have been enraged at the role reversal, but, much like the other two, delight won out over his anger. Clever people were so few and far between, to kill one would be similar to killing an animal of an endangered species. He recalled as he had held himself up that his thoughts were filled to the brim with small psychological taunts to throw back at her. He had even predicted to feel a light breeze filled with her scent as she stormed past him.

None of that happened. Instead, Audrey proceeded to pull the rug out from underneath him yet again. Once was an unusual occurrence. Twice, however, was a bit disquieting. Even more so in such a small time frame.

Perhaps underestimation was an incorrect word choice.

Audrey had changed far beyond what he had been expecting. That much was undeniably clear. His distance and lack of communication did something to her. Yes, it broke her but so much more had occurred.

Maybe it was something behind her eyes when she stalked towards him. Her movements had been so elegant and magnetic. Primal and confident. Deliberate and sensual. No messy ignorance. Everything was perfected from experience. A lot of experience if the _Tattler_ 's body count was to be trusted as being accurate…

His teeth clenched behind his lips at the memory causing Hannibal to pause his vegetable slicing. Yet another strange occurrence. That number had become far too high to be acceptable. He would need ponder on it later.

Those indigo eyes with raw hunger locked on him, burning a hole into the ashes of his soul. Her body lingered on his as if it had seared a permanent mark against his skin. She had offered everything to him so very willingly… Yet challenging him, daring him, to take her right then and there. But he had found himself unable to move. As if the murderess had placed him under a spell. Twisted him up into her web. Injected her venom into his veins.

Oh yes, she knew what she was doing to him. That knowing smirk on her blood painted lips grew into a victorious smile said everything.

 _Checkmate._

A smile tugged on the doctor's own lips.

What were those delightful words of hers?

 _I am not your human toy you get to obsessively fuck around with until it breaks._

Not at all, dear.

Not anymore, at least.

Cooking was a delight, a privilege. An art form in its own category. She did not deliver it as a punishment because it simply wasn't one. Her words, to any other, would have been received as an order. To him, they were the barest tip of the iceberg containing her forgiveness. His Audrey enjoyed cooking nearly as much as he did.

Unfortunately, she enjoyed holding a grudge even more.

No, the punishment was her absence. She had left him with only intrigue and a primal craving for more bubbling just beneath his skin. The true game had only just begun, but the first round was quite promising.

 _Well played, Audrey. Well played._

* * *

 **A/N: Ideas hit us in the weirdest of circumstances and always from the strangest places. Yes, she rode the bus because gas is expensive as hell and she isn't going to drive her car everyday to work.**

 **In the game of chess, for those who don't know, "checkmate" is a term signifying a completed game. If your opponent can neither move their King, interpose a piece, nor capture the attacking piece, their King is "checkmated," and they lose the game. On this board, Audrey is a Queen and Hannibal is a King. Kings determine the fate of the game and Queens are the King's generals. While Queens are the most powerful pieces on the board, Kings are the pieces the whole game revolves around. Clarice's "piece" is a Knight. If I recall correctly, the only piece that can threaten a Queen and not be threatened by a Queen in return is a Knight. Audrey cannot do anything to her sister (whether she wants to or not is up for debate at this point) because it would ruin her relationship with Hannibal.**

 **Any feedback is appreciated!**

 **Ta ta,**

 **Dreamiest Nightmare**


	4. Chapter 3 - Calm Before the Storm

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who's supporting and reviewing this story. I'm glad all of you are enjoying it!**

 **Apologies on the late update. I actually had a taste of a social life this week. I know. Stop the damn press.**

 **Disclaimer: Look to the Prologue for it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Calm Before the Storm**

Dying embers fell from the lit cigarette between her fingers. Clarice watched with mild interest as the fading dot of light hit the ground without protest. The ash had already accepted its fate. Destined to be stomped on by uncaring shoes. A thought might be spared by the owners out of sheer annoyance but nothing more.

On occasion, a rebel would arise. A single piece refusing to go out. Defiantly hanging on. Glaring up at the world as gleaming auburn turned to crimson red. One side of her lips tipped up. The inanimate crumb of garbage held a tiny bit of respect from her.

 _Good. Nice to see my standards haven't dropped._

An eye roll accompanied her next drag. Her shift in position caused the stack of case files to spill even further out of her bag. One of them nudged her thigh but Clarice didn't give it any attention. She couldn't be bothered with more disappointment. Nothing in those files would tell her anything she didn't already know.

No cannibalistic serial killer to play with her mind even though he knew _every-fucking-thing_ she needed in order to solve the goddamn case. Held information over her head for no reason than to constantly remind her he was the smartest person in the room. That didn't even include all the other shit he had pulled over the years.

 _God, what a narcissistic asshole._

There was no DNA because of course not. Like a damned ghost poofed in, killed people, and left without a trace. Not exactly surprising. Her life was Murphy's Law's bitch. Why would the fates start being kind now?

Clarice wanted to be frustrated but, God, she was far too tired to give a damn.

The low vibrations on her nightstand early yesterday morning did not wake her. No, sleep had not come to her that night —huge shock. Whether that was a blessing or a curse was beyond her. Those damned screaming lambs had devolved to an irritating drone in the back of her mind. Any amount of silence in her life brought them out. Like a bizarre case of mental tinnitus. A dull hum reminding her who she was and where she came from.

No no no no. Her nightmares had only become more creative. Chesapeake Bay was a primary source of inspiration for her unconscious brain. The first year of them had been so horrifying, she had a borderline mental break at one point. But apparently an increase in cynicism and a decrease in damns given equaled less Lecter-filled dreams. A fantastic discovery she had made after passing out from a few too many beers. Her assigned therapist didn't like it but even she couldn't deny the results.

No, it was really only one part of the entire ordeal that truly haunted her. The only one she couldn't blame Lecter at all for. Just a single second. A heart beat. A blink of an eye. Yet, in her nightmares, it would last for hours.

That one moment of hesitation. Of consideration.

Yes, Clarice had been tempted by his offer. Oh, so very tempted. More than she would willingly admit, even to herself. It would've been so easy to give in to what he wanted. To fall into the bottomless abyss with him. Forgo everything she had been to be with him.

But Clarice refused to be the lamb that trusted the butcher.

The moment of weakness passed. Her stubborn reply sealed her fate. His eyes became unreadable pits. Sirens shrilled closer. Silver cleaver. A reflexive scream. Lots of blood.

Darkness.

Months upon months of therapy followed that incident. It became clear after year two that they had no real intention to let her back into the FBI. Probably for the best, considering. As much as Clarice wanted to be mad, she couldn't. There were too many eyes on her and the FBI wanted out of the spotlight. She was damaged goods. A liability. A loose string needing to be snipped off.

However, about a year later, a 911 call came in about a strange smell coming from a suburban home. That call led to the discovery of a dead family of three. None of that was terribly out of the ordinary. National new networks didn't even bat an eye. Only upon realizing that the father had met a strikingly similar fate to one of Lecter's victims did the world do a double-take.

Next thing Clarice knew, she had been cleared for active duty.

Apparently, her mental health took a backseat when she was needed. Good to know the FBI had their priorities in order. They had clearly learned so much since Will Graham.

It was around four when her Mustang rolled up to the scene. An early morning rain was better than a cup of coffee. Unfortunately, being soaking wet would not mix well with an active crime scene. Armed with an umbrella, a thermos, and a lacking damn, she walked over to the yellow tape. No need to flash a badge. The whole damn country knew her face.

Vaseline was no longer necessary for her. The putrid smell of death stopped bothering her a while ago. She scanned the inside area. Agents talking to local officials. Techs gathering evidence. A few other agents were gathered in a small group discussing theories.

No one was trying to calm down family members.

Anger and sorrow pooled into her chest, replacing the emptiness her attempt at apathy. A tired sigh left her lips. Dammit.

It wasn't as though she didn't know why she was called in. She just didn't want it to be true.

Her fears were confirmed as she made her way around the house. Same as the others. A father, a mother, and a son. Clearly not Lecter's work but the father, once again, was killed in a similar manner to one of the Chesapeake Ripper's victims. Lecter's precise, surgical cuts were replaced with hatred-filled gashes. The mother and son were murdered in a vastly different way. So different, it could be mistaken for two separate killers. Almost apologetic, especially in comparison to the father. Quick deaths. Always facing away from the killer.

No emotion was allowed to display itself on Clarice's face as she stared at the mother and son. Three drops of blood connected the two. Like Orion's belt.

She had watched as they took away all the evidence while she sipped on her coffee. Their efforts were fruitless, however. The techs would find nothing. With the amount of gore present, one would think at least some type of DNA might be left behind. Nope. Not a chance.

Clarice really hated clever criminals.

"I thought you said you were quitting those damn things?"

A small smile curved on her lips as she lifted her eyes to Ardelia standing before her. Hands crossed over her chest. Bottom lip jutting out enough to be noticeable. Trying her damnedest to look stern.

"Well, I was." Clarice turned her gaze to the still lit cigarette, rolling it between her fingertips. "But if I'm chock full of cancer, he can't eat me, now, can he?" With raised brows, she brought it to her lips and took another long drag.

Lecter wouldn't eat her even if she didn't have cancer. It would be rude and 'don't be rude' was one of maybe two rules that guided that asshole's life. Though he definitely wouldn't like her new smell. Perhaps she could bottle cigarette smoke and sell it as Lecter propellant.

 _Now there's an idea._

The reward for her behavior was an eye roll. "Gimme that." The cigarette was plucked from her lips and thrown on the ground. Ardelia's boot crushed the remains before Clarice could say a word.

She stared at the crushed paper and ash before lifting up a half-serious narrowed gaze. "You owe me money for that."

A snort. "Like hell I do."

A scoff. "Do you know how expensive those damn things are?"

"Yeah, I do. Which is yet another reason why you shouldn't smoke." Ardelia sighed. "Lord knows we get paid shit."

Genuine laughter bubbled up. She had a hard time recalling the last time she'd laughed. Apparently Clarice wasn't the only one who thought that. "Well, that's a sound I didn't think I'd hear again. Over a shit joke, too. If I would've known that'd do it, I'd have broken out that damn pun book an ex of mine got me."

Disbelief covered her features. "You're not serious." _Where the hell were you keeping this gem, huh?_

Ardelia nodded with a grimace. "Oh, yeah." She moved the bag of manilla folders to the ground in a less than graceful manner and plopped down next to her. "Three year anniversary and he thought that was a good idea. I was sitting across from him, thinking he was going to propose. Worst part is, he did propose a couple weeks later. To his current wife."

There was a pause as Clarice absorbed that last bit of information. "Damn." She shook her head. "Jesus Christ, that's brutal."

"Mmhmm."

The two friends fell into silence. There was no awkwardness to be found as they sat there enjoying the tranquility. A nearby tree shaded the bench they were on and that combined with a light breeze created the perfect temperature. Ardelia's shoulder pressed against hers in a comforting way. Her best friend had a tendency to know exactly what she needed without saying a word.

She had been hesitant to tell her anything about Chesapeake Bay. It wasn't as though Clarice didn't trust her. She didn't want to burden her friend with what happened. However, after a shit day, her walls came crashing down around her and out came the story in a blubbering, chaotic mess. Clarice had predicted several reactions but not a single one was understanding and acceptance. Ardelia was a goddamn saint. Their friendship not only withstood all the shit Lecter put her through, but came out even stronger. If they weren't sisters before, they were now.

 _She's a fucking gift from God._

Clarice let her eyes drift shut. The fresh air did wonders for her. Her mood was elevated thanks to Ardelia and her mind was finally clear.

 _Huh. Is this what true peace is? It's been so long—_

"Starling!"

Well, that was nice while it lasted. All four and a half seconds of it. Might be a new record.

Wait.

Was that the voice of Jack Crawford?

Her eyes shot open.

Unless her sight was also lying to her, that was, in fact, Jack Crawford.

…Out of his office.

Her lips curved downward into a frown.

What the hell was he doing outside the BAU?

No. Wrong question.

 _Why_ the hell was he outside the BAU?

As the gangly man ran —Holy shit who knew the old man still had it in him?— over to Clarice, her eyes flittered over his features. A cold chill ran up her spine at that look.

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

That expression was a familiar cocktail. Fear. Anxiety. Concern.

So much more fear.

Fear directed at her specifically.

 _Fuck._

Clarice's stomach twisted into a giant knot. Ardelia's hand gripped hers as she too realized the only possible answer to the question in their minds.

Lecter was back.

* * *

 **A/N: I know, I know. It's short.**

 **Sorry about that. Next one will be longer.**

 **Any feedback is appreciated!**

 **Ta ta,**

 **Dreamiest Nightmare**


	5. Chapter 4 - Caged

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who is supporting and reviewing this story. I'm glad all of you are enjoying it!**

 **Disclaimer: Look to the Prologue for it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Caged**

Déjà vu was hitting Clarice with the force of an eighteen wheeler as she and Crawford walked through the halls of FBI HQ. She ignored the judgmental stares and pitiful attempts at whispering from her coworkers. It wasn't as though she gave a damn what any of them thought anyway.

 _Honestly, did they learn their stealth training from a neon sign?_

Being annoyed was just the tip of her emotional iceberg at the moment. Life had just begun to look normal. Okay, as normal as her damned existence could get. Her serial killer stalker kinda killed any chance at that.

 _Oh, good. Are we resorting to puns? Maybe you can get a stand up career to fall back on when the FBI inevitably has you "voluntarily resign"._

She really didn't want to think about that. God, her whole damn career was a nightmare. Or a really dark joke if she looked back on it in the right mood. Clarice could write an entire novel on it. The title could be 'For Christ's Sake, Don't Do Any Of This If You Want A Decent Fucking Career in the FBI'. A novel by Clarice Starling.

 _Beautiful. Bet NBC would pick that shit up._

What got her the most was the timing. Her plate —for Christ's sake, stop with the puns— was already full. She was already not getting sleep. So o _f course_ he'd come a-knockin'. _Of course_ Lecter would drag her back to hell. He couldn't be done with her. Oh, _no_. All the shit he already bestowed onto her wasn't enough. Not at _all_. He was the gift that kept on giving.

 _Giving me more mental disorders._

Clarice had gotten to the point that she was more than happy to never see him again. Unless it was to identify his body. Yeah. She could get behind that.

 _Why can't he just leave me alone?_

 _No, no, no. The real question is, why are you a little bit excited to be hearing from him again?_

 _Because fuck you. That's why._

Fortunately, they arrived at the door to the conference room before Clarice could further mentally dig herself into a hole. She opened it and was greeted with more glorious déjà vu. Pearsall, Noonan, and Wayne were all seated in the same places from the last meet-and-greet she had been dragged into. A tall woman with dark hair stood in a corner away from the others with a cigarette. Clarice had no idea who she was but the woman looked vaguely familiar. The window was open next to her, wafting away all the smoke. Her body language gave away her annoyance at the three men. She clearly didn't want to be there.

The two of them had that in common at least. Maybe she had another ally in the room after all.

Clarice didn't bother presenting niceties. After walking around them, she headed to the farthest chair away from everyone. She didn't want to give even the smallest hint of wanting to be involved in whatever was happening. Arms and legs crossed with a no-damns-given expression to top it all off. Crawford took a seat next to her. She barely suppressed a snort.

 _Trying to make us appear as though we're a unified front? Oh, good. Worked so well last time._

Silence overtook the room. Finally, Pearsall decided to break it. "Alright, who wants to start?" he asked with an authoritative tone.

 _Fucking hell. Please tell me he has no actual authority._

She decided to play his little game and sarcastically raised her hand. "I do, actually," Clarice gave him a fake, tight lipped smile. "Why the hell are you here?"

Crawford's head jerked so hard in her direction, she was surprised he didn't break his neck. "Starling—"

Her no-damns-given policy held up as she interrupted her boss. "Because, I understand those two being here." Pointed to Noonan and Wayne. "And I'm guessing… she's important?" Gestured to the unknown woman.

An uncaring flick of cigarette ash out the window accompanied a glance at Clarice. "Alison Hemming. I'm Paul Krendler's successor."

Ah.

Wonderful.

Her southern-styled raising saved her ass. "Nice to meet you."

 _Yes. Nice to meet you. I watched Hannibal Lecter cut pieces of your predecessor's brain out of his head while he was still alive. We should meet for coffee and talk more about it._

"So, Pearsall." Clarice leaned back in her chair and tilted her head to the side. "You seem to be the only one who doesn't belong."

Pearsall tried hard to be nice. "Starling, I'm here as…" The agent glanced at the two men sitting next to him for help. None was given. "A friend."

 _You goddamn liar._

"I didn't realize we were so close."

He quickly abandoned his half-assed attempt at buttering her up. "Well, we're not. But I'm going to be the closest thing you'll have to one once all this gets out."

Clarice didn't even flinch. They had already tried to make her feel isolated before. A bit lazy of them to try using the same tactic twice in a row. "That's a load of crap. Agents Mapps has been supportive of me since day one of this shit show. Why don't you tell me how much did they increased your salary, Clint?"

Watching him try to come up with a comeback was painful. It was like his little brain was imploding. Pearsall opened his mouth but Hemming cut him off. She had apparently had enough of his verbal flailing. "Agent Pearsall, are you really trying to lie to someone who psychoanalyzes people for a living?" He closed his mouth. "Thank you. You've certainly embarrassed yourself enough for one day."

 _Damn._

Clarice was really starting to like her. Lecter should've killed Krendler sooner.

 _And those are the kind of thoughts that get you in a padded room._

Hemming's eyes cut back to her. "Agent Starling, I believe you are generally aware of why you are here. Quite frankly, I don't see how you couldn't. Do you have any questions before we begin?"

"Yes, actually. As no one wants to be here—" Not a single individual in the room made any attempt at disputing that. "—may I cut the amount of time we're forced to be in each other's presence down to even less?"

Wayne shrugged, trying to casually glance at his phone in the process. Noonan sighed and learned back with fingers interlaced behind his head. Pearsall was doing what could only be described as a grownup alternative to pouting. Hemming hid her amused smirk in a drag.

Clarice didn't need to look over at Crawford. Most likely he was trying to appear offended. It was all an act. She was a black spot on his record. Right up there with Will. Crawford was her ally as long as she worked under him. The guilt he had once had in regards to her had worn off years ago. Even if he tried to play it like that wasn't the case.

Or maybe she was just cynical. Maybe he _did_ still feel guilty. Not like she gave a damn either way.

"Obviously, this is about Hannibal Lecter," Clarice began. "He's back. But how is he back? Not because he killed someone. That would have been all over the news. Not because y'all know where he is. Crawford and I would have been asked to go to wherever that was. That leaves only one possibility: He left something. A little clue, a little taunt. Knowing him, it was probably a letter or at least a small note. Handwritten. Thick, expensive paper. Lecter's old-fashioned that way. Makes him feel more intelligent and refined than the rest of the world. No need to check for DNA. He knows we would know and he does not like wasting time." She paused and lifted her gaze back up to the others. "My question is, how did one of the top ten most wanted men in the country manage to stroll into the BAU and place something on my desk without anyone noticing?"

Hemming was the only one who looked interested in her words. "Not bad, Starling." Crushing her cigarette butt in an ash tray, she walked over to Clarice. The clear evidence bag in Hemming's hand was set down before her. She took the middle of the three seats between Clarice and Pearsall. "A letter was delivered to your desk yesterday, early afternoon. Inside was a handwritten note to you from Hannibal Lecter. At least, that's what the handwriting analyst says. According to the eyewitness account given by the receptionist, a threat to her son's life caused her to allow access to your desk. All security measures were working except the cameras. The guards supposedly watching the footage didn't notice until we inquired about it. Apparently, they prefer playing poker to doing their jobs."

 _Figures_.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Starling." Her head turned to Crawford. He readjusted himself in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "He didn't deliver the letter. A woman did."

The news hit her far harder than it should have.

A woman? That would suggest… No. It made no sense. He wouldn't trust just anyone. Particularly not in regards to delivering something to her.

 _Would you ever say to me, stop? If you loved me, you'd stop?_

 _Would you fuck off and die if I asked?_

She frantically stuffed down the unwanted emotions and thoughts. No one needed to know about those. Especially those in the room with her. Hell, she didn't want to know them herself.

 _Deep breath. Compartmentalize. Deal with this later._

"So, you're telling me that Lecter has a woman doing his dirty work? Our current profile on Lecter would suggest the opposite. He doesn't seek out companionship—"

"He did with you." Pearsall was apparently set on winning an award for being the most annoying dickhead in the room. He had an impressive lead. "Are you upset you're not special anymore?"

She didn't dignify his childish taunt with a response. But Noonan had had enough of his subordinate's bullshit. "Pearsall, if I hear another unprofessional comment come out of your mouth, I will personally oversee your transfer to our shittest office location. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," the agent mumbled, clearly not happy with tables being turned.

 _Hope you enjoy that award, Clint._

Honestly, it was a bit of a tragedy. Pearsall used to be such a good guy. It really was a shame that arrogance and greed had all but destroyed the man's decency. He'd descended to Krendler's level of assholery. There really was no going back after that.

After a few moments passed, she continued. "Short version, Lecter is a loner. He doesn't look for human companionship. Humans are normally very social creatures. While Lecter might not be a true psychopath, he has dissociated himself from his own humanity for so long, he might as well be. This is not a man who would purposefully be around someone else unless they were of use to him."

Hemming was watching her with a disturbing lack of emotion. It was like a switch had been flipped. All the warmth coming from her had vanished. "The letter suggests otherwise. And not just in regards to the mystery woman."

Any camaraderie between the two women disappeared upon that remark. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Dark green eyes bored into her blue ones. "In your report of the events that occurred at Chesapeake Bay, did you, by any chance, leave out information?" A small smirk tugged on Hemming's lips. "Perhaps an event you would rather take to the grave than permanently end up in the FBI files?"

Clarice took back everything good she had said about Hemming. She was so much worse than Krendler. At least he had only been a horny idiot. This woman was cunning, ambitious, and manipulative as hell. She had intelligence and power to get her exactly what she wanted. To say Hemming was a dangerous woman was an understatement.

 _God, I'm so fucked._

To their surprise, Crawford came to her rescue. "Ms. Hemming, with all respect, it has been five years since that incident happened. Agent Starling was under a heavy dose of morphine given to her by Doctor Lecter. The fact that she remembered anything is nothing short of extraordinarily. She called the police and did whatever necessary to stall Lecter before their arrival. When he found out her intensions, she managed to handcuff herself to him in a last ditch effort to prevent him from escaping. I don't think that any one of us can say we would have had the guts to do the same." He fixed Hemming with a firm stare. "May we should continue with the original topic of this meeting rather than asking Agent Starling to recall events that happened half a decade ago?"

Hemming was clearly unhappy with Crawford's response. "Fine." She turned back to Clarice with that friendly mask on again. Without the rose-tinted glasses on, her kindness became obviously fraudulent. She was angry this woman had played her so easily but refused to give the bitch the satisfaction. "Starling, can you go ahead and read the letter? I want to make sure we are all on the same page."

Clarice had already concluded that was really why she was there anyway. But why she couldn't have done it down at the forensic lab was beyond her. She slowly peeled away the sealed barrier. Hemming tossed blue latex gloves on the table from God knows where. Clarice put them on and removed the envelope. She made a mental note to ask the techs why part of it looked like it had been burned. Carefully, she took the letter out and unfolded it. Familiar, ridiculously beautiful handwriting greeted her. Just before she began reading, Hemming's voice cut through her mind.

"Out loud, please."

She looked over the top of the letter to see a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. "You did want to minimize time spent in here, didn't you? Reading it out loud will refresh all of us on what it says in more detail."

Clarice genuinely hated that Hemming made so much sense. She gave the bitch a cold look before she began to read.

" _My dearest Clarice,_

 _It has been a long time since our last encounter, has it not? Although we may not judge time in the same way, five years is quite a while regardless. Many things have changed, haven't they? Your reinstatement to your beloved FBI as well as your engagement to that county officer, Charles Porter. Are you attempting to flush out all that reminds you of me? Perhaps in a feeble effort to acquire a new start? Do not fret, my dear. We both know that it just as impossible for you to forget me as it is for me to forget you. Has my voice joined your screaming lambs in your dreams, Clarice? I imagine that it has. Does that make you shudder? With horror or with…pleasure? No need to answer, my dear. We both know the answer."_

The other's stares were tangible. Clarice could almost hear their minds trying to piece together how Lecter knew such deeply personal information about her. The resulting judgement came off them in waves. Back to being the most hated person in the room.

She was so fucked.

 _"My apologies. I seem to have sidetracked from my true reason of writing this letter. You always have had an uncanny ability to distract me. Let us continue:_

 _Many things have changed for me as well. I have become, ah, reacquainted in a manner of speaking with a dear friend from the past. I am quite certain you have heard of her. Does the aptly named 'Black Widow' ring any bells? Yes or no, Clarice? If not, do not worry. Ole Jacky boy should be able to fill you in. Unless he's there. Listening to you read this out loud in front of a group of executives, perhaps? Please say hello for me. I do miss our little dinner parties."_

Clarice looked up at Crawford after that. He looked paler than usual and, if she wasn't mistaken, a tad green. Being reminded of involuntary cannibalism would do that to a person.

It was truly surprising he wasn't a vegetarian. Clarice had become one right after Chesapeake Bay. She couldn't eat meat without feeling as though she was snacking on Paul Krendler.

 _"Now, now, my dear. Do not let the green-eyed monster get the best of you in regards to my darling Black Widow. Although it is highly amusing to imagine your envy over my beloved female companion. It truly would not surprise me if that was the case given the nature of our, ah, relationship. I imagine your smooth, pale cheeks turning a light shade of red upon reading this. Is it out of school-girl embarrassment or jealous anger? I believe we both know the answer. Do not forget that I know you better than most._

 _Ta,_

 _Your Hannibal"_

She could feel her cheeks flush as she read the final paragraph. Clarice had never experienced such profound self-hatred.

 _I'm not jealous, you son of a bitch._

 _I'm angry because… well, because I…_

 _You know what? Fuck you, Lecter. Just fuck you._

Her hand trembled out of the sheer amount of rage coursing through her veins. She placed the paper back on the table to keep herself from crumbling it up. Clarice closed her eyes in order to keep her emotions in check.

It wasn't working.

 _After everything you did to me. After everything you put me through. After you ruined my life. All because you needed a replacement plaything after Will fucked off? You almost destroyed me and you think you can just reenter my life whenever you please?_

 _I'm not yours._

 _How fucking_ dare _you think I am._

Clarice was going to fucking kill him. He was a dead man walking. Lecter wouldn't be fucking recognizable by the time she was done with him.

No one dared to speak when she opened her eyes. The blazing determination put all their doubt on the back burner. It was certainly not the reaction they were expecting.

 _What the were you expecting me to do? Cry?_

Clarice was so fucking done with being manipulated and being treated like a fragile object.

"What do you want me to do?"

Her words made Hemming's expression turn into one of approval. "We want you to bait the beast, so to speak. He likes you, Starling. _Really_ likes you. When he contacts you again, use it against him."

Clarice glanced back down at the letter. The name 'Black Widow' made her top lip pull upward into a brief snarl before becoming a tight line. Her eyes met Hemming's and she nodded once. "Yes, ma'am."

 _I'll bring him to his fucking knees._

* * *

"—breaking news coming from Washington. FBI officials have confirmed the rumors of a serial killer team up. An allegiance between Doctor Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter and the female serial killer, 'Black Widow', might prove to be the most dangerous pairing of the century. Not only does their combined body count reach the triple digits, but they have proved time and time again that they are highly skilled at evading officials. Since Lecter's escape several years ago, his exact whereabouts have been made of guesswork and the Black Widow is still without an identity. The relationship between the two was hinted as being intimate, but questions regarding that particular detail were answered with 'no comment'."

 _'Hinted at being intimate'?_

 _Okay._

 _Fuck off, FBI._

Pearl teeth flashed at the screen. "Looks like a match made in hell, Linda."

 _Well, you can go fuck off, too._

A wide, fake smile and equally fake laughter. "Indeed it does, John."

 _Goddammit, Linda. You can go fuck off with them._

"While the exact source of this is being kept confidential by the FBI, it has been leaked that Special Agent Clarice Starling is somehow involved. Investigators have also told us that the U.S. Department of Justice's new Deputy Assistant Attorney General, Alison Hemming, will be leading this investigation to capture Doctor Lecter and his female companion. The public's speculation over the FBI's competence is higher than ever as their history involving the couple has not been a positive—"

 _Shut. Up._

Her index finger hit the 'off' button with a soft click. The hard plastic of the remote gently greeted the surface of the dark red stand next to the chair Audrey sat in. A clink of ceramic on ceramic as she picked up the teacup. The barest hint of a sip as she drank her Earl Grey.

Was this their first ever awkward silence? Good. Just what she always wanted.

To be fair, what the hell could he possibly say to save his ass?

 _'Oh, whoopsie. Didn't I tell you? I implied we were a romantic couple in that letter you gave to your sister yesterday. You know, so she would be jealous and such. Uh, now, I didn't plan on having information from it leaked to the press this soon. Kinda wanted to continue treating you like royalty so you wouldn't notice I was slowly emotionally manipulating you into forgiving me because that bothers me for some ridiculous, unknown reason. Yeah, I fucked that up nice and good. Oh, and yes I am somewhat aware you have romantic feelings for me because of yesterday which makes this so much worse. Human liver sound good for dinner, Audrey dear?'_

Seconds stretched on. Was he really not going to try anything? Not even a single word to defend himself? Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. He wasn't even _looking_ at her.

Though…

Could it be?

Could he possibly experience normal human emotions? _No_. Couldn't be. The great Hannibal Lecter feeling genuinely bad over his shitty actions towards her?

Gasp.

He would _never_.

How _dare_ anyone imply such _blasphemy_.

Audrey noticed the barest hint of movement from him. A gentle, rhythmic tap on the arm of the sofa from his finger. If the roles were reversed, she would have either tried to make a run for it or pray for teleportation powers. She would, most definitely, not be doing whatever the hell it was that he was doing.

 _Well, maybe, if I tap my finger, she'll go away and I won't have to deal with a bruised ego over not knowing everything for the second day in a row._

As if hearing her sarcastic, mocking thoughts, he turned his head towards her but ultimately said nothing. However, his facial expression was rather intriguing. A war seemed to be waging in his mind judging by the variety of emotions trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to know what was going on in that brain of his.

Perhaps Hannibal _was_ feeling a bit guilty. Joking aside, he wasn't a true psychopath —despite what almost everyone said. He had emotions. They were buried deep in an abyss and probably covered in cobwebs from disuse. But they were there.

And, in his defense, she had never truly let him see her raw emotions in regards to him before. He most likely had his suspicions. But yesterday presented him with the first actual piece of evidence. It was without her consent but that detail didn't matter right then. What mattered was the letter had become an unfortunate time bomb. Maybe if they were in a better place emotionally, it wouldn't be a big deal. In fact, Audrey knew it wouldn't. Instead of accepting him without question like some mindless loyal dog, she had rejected him. Not only that, she had deceived and seduced him.

That would make anyone take a step back.

Although, there was the possibility that she had made a bigger impression on him than she had initially thought. Audrey didn't stick around to witness the aftermath. She was far too busy basking in her own victory. Yesterday also marked the first time she had behaved like that to him. Not like she would to a teacher, an authoritative figure, or even a friend. Audrey had treated him like a lover. A scorned one, but a lover nonetheless. That had to change at least a little of their dynamic.

Right?

Hell, over the course of the last twenty-four hours, he had figuratively placed her up on a pedestal. It was like she was a queen. Hannibal wouldn't let her left a finger if he could help it. He had even made her favorite tea —remembering exactly how she liked it to boot— when she started to get up to make some half an hour ago. A simple "Allow me" came from him before going into the kitchen.

 _Why are you reading so much into it? It's clearly just another manipulation tactic._

 _Was it though?_

Hannibal had gone as far as to refrain from looking at her when she hesitantly joined him. He had been aware of her presence. A small change in posture and a brief tensing of his muscles before relaxing back into the leather. Yes, she could have shared the sofa with him. There had been plenty of room. However, Audrey opted for the high-backed chair perpendicular to it instead. She was pretty sure the message was received.

As Audrey placed the teacup down, she could feel the plum dress ride up a bit on her thigh. Like the gentleman he was, Hannibal didn't look at her rather exposed legs. His eyes remained on hers. It was almost enough to make her smile. Almost.

A deep sigh left her lips instead as she placed her hands in her lap and crossed her ankles.

 _Time to poke the dragon._

"What's next, Hannibal?" She tilted her head to the side, studying his features. "Do you not have another plan? That is rather unlike you. Surely you, of all people, would have had a plan 'B'. Especially after your attempts to butter me up over the last twenty-four hours has clearly failed."

He became unreadable. A bit concerning but not entirely shocking. Her tone's inspiration came from the voices of his former colleagues who testified against him. Ice cold and detached.

Honestly, she had no idea what to expect, but Audrey pushed on regardless.

She brushed a nonexistent piece of lint off her dress. "A bit disappointing, I must admit. Almost as disappointing as not being able to kill that FBI receptionist I had to deal with yesterday because of you," Audrey continued. "But perhaps disappointment is what I am to now expect from you. You seem to insist on continuing to manipulate my emotions. I don't ask _anything_ of you. The _least_ you could do is —wait, what are you doing?"

While she was talking, Hannibal had stood up with superhuman gracefulness and walked over to her. He knelt —actually fucking _knelt_ — before her. Like a man about to be knighted. Audrey knew he was dramatic but now he was possibly taking the whole treating-her-like-a-queen thing a little too far.

 _Oh, shut up. You are loving this and you know it._

 _Am I loving Hannibal Lecter kneeling in front of me? Yeah, of course I am. Who wouldn't love it?_

Hannibal slowly reached out to her lap, watching for any form of protest. Hesitation and caution filled her features but she offered no objection. Audrey had the obvious physical advantage as his current position allowed for no threatening motions. Well, that, and his leg was right up against her crossed ones. Hannibal being in her personal space was a small distraction. She was acutely aware of his body heat radiating off of him. She subconsciously pressed her legs against his. If he tried anything, one swift kick to the balls would suffice nicely.

He took her hand loosely in his and brought it towards him. His delicate touch almost destroyed the barriers surrounding her heart. Warm breath greeted her skin as his lips parted to speak.

"I'm sorry, Audrey."

 _Huh._

 _Okay._

To say she was surprised was an understatement. It was the first time she had seen her Hannibal —The true, genuine one. Not this fake one her sister had drawn out.— since he came back into her life yesterday. His first apology had been one of manipulation. He obviously had been trying to calm her down. But this… It was real.

 _Don't get too excited. Let's see where he goes with this._

His lips brushed over her fingers once slowly like he was savoring her and the moment. Audrey could feel him breathe in her scent. A proper kiss was applied to her middle knuckles and she couldn't help but notice the kiss lingered for a few seconds over the chaste kiss limit.

 _There go the outer castle walls._

A wave of warmth washed over her body. Her ability to speak seemed to have abandoned ship. She blinked several times, trying to regain her wits. His gesture was filled with a profound sense of intimacy. Not of a sexual nature, however. The intimacy ran far deeper than that.

Audrey noticed the storm raging behind his eyes had faded away. There was a clarity within them. He had come to a conclusion but of what, she did not know.

"I know, Hannibal," Audrey replied softly. She placed her hand on his cheek and brushed her thumb along his skin with a tenderness she had long forgotten. "I accept your apology but I cannot forgive you."

The affect her words had on him was briefly shown but intense nonetheless. It was the emotional equivalent to being slapped in the face. She could feel him pulling away from her even though his positioning didn't change.

"Not fully." she clarified, hoping any desperation seeping into her mind didn't show. Her fingers trailed down his cheek and along his jawline. Being affectionate did not come naturally to her but the doctor had always managed to be an exception to those types of things. "Not yet."

Her teeth lightly bit into her bottom lip as she considered her next words.

 _Fuck it._

If Audrey was to ask Hannibal to be honest, it would be rude of her to not return the favor.

"Trust is not given freely. I need you to realize my trust in you is currently fractured. I'm not sure anymore if your actions are truly sincere or emotionally manipulative."

"Audrey, I—"

She shushed him and placed a single finger on his lips which cut him off. After a few seconds, she removed it. "I understand why you went away for twelve years. As much as I wish the logic to be flawed, it's not. What you did _did_ help me. However, your actions damaged our relationship."

Her voice broke, forcing her to stop momentarily. Dammit. Audrey loathed weakness. She wanted none of it.

"There were years of doubt and heartbreak," she continued after regaining control with her anger as her fuel. "I truly did not think I would see you again. From my perspective, you had become bored with me and tossed me aside as you chased after my sister. And, in a sense, that is true. You were everything to me, the only light in my life. Then, suddenly, I had to deal with the concept that I had meant nothing to you. Whether or not that is true doesn't matter because that's what I believed. For over a decade, I believed I was another toy you had thrown away."

She couldn't look at him. Completely gave up on that out of genuine worry that if she saw what he was thinking, she would lose her courage entirely.

"Then coming back into my life so suddenly…" she sighed and shook her head. "You need to understand that I'm not the same woman you once knew. I am no longer a child. I lived without you before. Do not expect to be the center of my world now."

 _You_ are _aware that you can sugarcoat it a little bit, right?_

 _Damn. We were doing so good too. Always gotta ruin sweet moments._

Audrey still refused to look at him. She didn't want to know. Not at all. Not in the slightest. A little. A lot. Not at all.

She felt him moving. When he let go of her hand, Audrey's pulse spiked. Panic stampeded over logical thought. All synapses ceased firing, however, when she felt his hands pressed up against either side of the naked skin of her thighs.

Audrey turned to look at him and found herself unable to breathe. Hannibal's face was so close, she almost kissed him. Amusement danced over his features as his darkened eyes locked onto her parted lips. She had been distracted by him being in her personal before but having him leaning over her was a whole different ballgame.

So much for her advantage.

"My dear…" Hannibal growled out in his low, velvety voice. "You are playing a very dangerous game by speaking to me in such a manner."

Holy shit.

He's mad.

So very, very mad.

And so fucking hot.

To be perfectly honest, all she wanted to do in that moment was fuck him. But, somehow, Audrey located her speaking abilities. "Games without danger are not worth playing," she mumbled as her tongue ran over the point of an elongated incisor.

Her movement distracted him. She could see it in his eyes as they glazed over for a moment. "Hmm. That is true." His gaze lifted up to focus on her eyes. "It _is_ rather insulting to insinuate I think so little of you."

"It would have been far ruder to not be honest," Audrey countered smoothly.

He tilted his head slight to the side, causing their noses to brush against one another. His anger had begun to dissipate. "Perhaps." Hannibal's tone was calm. The strange, dangerous look in his eyes had faded away.

But, being the idiot she was, Audrey decided to push her luck. "And perhaps if you wanted an intimate relationship with me, you should have asked instead of forcing me to find out via the news."

A deep chuckle answered her. His pupils were blown out just as they were yesterday. "Darling, I will not ask. I intend to make you want me like you have never known. Only my name and 'please' will exist in your vocabulary. I will become an addiction you will never get enough of. You will crave me. You will beg for my touch. Only then will I make you mine."

 _There goes the entire fucking castle._

And her ability to speak vanished for the third time that evening. Probably never to return.

Once Hannibal was satisfied he had rendered her completely speechless, a victorious smirk tugged on his lips. He pulled away from her and smoothed his buttoned shirt. Nimble fingers plucked the teacup and saucer off the table. "I do hope liver sits well with you for our dining pleasure. If your speaking faculties should return to you, I will be in the kitchen."

Her eyes followed him until he disappeared behind the door. She was no longer in any sort of dignified position. Her crossed legs had opened at some point during their exchange and were too far apart to be at all ladylike. Audrey felt her face flush as the scent of her arousal hit the air. No wonder he was so pleased with himself.

Well, nothing she could do about it now.

 _Yeah, I'll just continue being a puddle in this chair._

* * *

 **A/N: I love my sarcastic twins.**

 **Any feedback is always appreciated!**

 **Ta ta,**

 **Dreamiest Nightmare**


	6. Chapter 5 - Knights of the Round Table

**A/N: Thank you to all of those who are supporting and reviewing this story. I'm happy all of you are enjoying it!**

 **Disclaimer: Look at the Prologue for it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Knights of the Round Table**

The warm abyss cradled her body as she free fell into oblivion. Was she asleep? Hell if she knew. It'd been so long, she couldn't tell.

Could someone be self-aware of being asleep? What's that thing called? Lucid dreaming, right?

 _No way I'm that lucky._

 _Lady Luck would never stoop so low as to grace me with her presence._

"—gonna wake her up. Do you realize how little sleep she's been getting?"

 _Well that's fucking ironic._

Clarice's current thought process was at an all-time low. Her brain was a muddled mess as she slowly drifted into full consciousness. Regardless, she worked to pinpoint the voice.

It was masculine. Very familiar. Subtly Puerto Rican from his mother if one listened hard enough. The Boston flare from his father only came out when he was frustrated like he was now. A small smile came to her lips.

Charles.

 _Ah, yes. That county officer, Charles Porter._

 _Are you attempting to flush out all that reminds you of me? Perhaps in a feeble effort to acquire a new start?_

The peaceful, gradual float to consciousness quickly changed to an abrupt one as Lecter's voice invaded her mind. It was like gulping down five shots of espresso all at once. The smile disappeared. Clarice managed to keep her eyes shut as she scrambled to censor herself. Just because Charles knew everything involving Lecter didn't mean he needed to know that the doctor's voice continued to linger in her thoughts. He loved her despite everything else. No need to rock the boat. None at all.

An annoyed feminine sigh interrupted her thought process. Ardelia. What other woman wanted anything to do with her? "Yeah, of course I do. What do you think we talk about? Rainbows, unicorns, periods, and serial killer stalkers?" Classic Ardelia. Always with the heavy amounts of sarcasm.

 _Eh. Might as well relax and enjoy the show._

"Well, you two probably talk about the same things she and I do." There was a moment of silence as Charles seemed to realize how stupid his initial question was. "Shut up."

"You did that all on your own, hun." There was a distinct sound. It was the unmistakable suction of the fridge opening. "But come on. You have to at least admit they're perfect for each other." Bottles of various things clinked as her best friend started rummaging around. "Want anything?"

"Um, water, please. Thanks." The plastic crunched in his hand as he opened the bottle. "And I never said they weren't. I just think that if they were to get into a relationship —a _real_ relationship— everything we love about them would be destroyed." Ardelia scoffed at his words. "No, seriously. Think about it. It would ruin everything. Happens all the time in slow burns."

"Yeah yeah yeah. We've talked about this before." Whatever Ardelia had in her hand made a sloshing sound suggesting she was gesturing.

Charles gasped sarcastically. "Don't tell me you've actually been paying attention when I speak. If that's the case, I'm gonna have to start raising my conversational expectations in regards to you. Not that that's saying much."

"Shut up."

"Nah." He paused, possibly to drink his water. "Slow burns are a fun ride but never end well. Why? Because there are always four things that happen in slow burns. One. The couple becomes unbearable once they're together causing everyone to hate it."

An exasperated groan. Both Clarice and Ardelia had heard his spiel on slow burns several times. She could feel her best friend's pain. "Two. It stops being a slow burn because the two characters just fuck abruptly causing everyone to hate it."

"Three. After the romance commences, everything falls apart because the slow burn was the only interesting thing going on which no one realized until that aspect was gone causing everyone to hate it.

"Four. The slow burn is never resolved causing everyone to lose their shit and hate it. And— _And_ ," she emphasized when Charles tried to interrupt her. "Five. Slow burn happens, romance blooms, everything going on around the slow burn was and continued to be interesting. Everyone is happy. The end."

A loud snort came from Charles. "No. I reject five."

"Because you're in denial that I'm right?"

"Because five does not happen, manita."

"Sure it does."

"Really? Name one time it happened. Just one."

Irritated and stubborn silence. "They could be the exception."

"Oh, I'm sure," he retorted mockingly before obnoxiously crackling the plastic in his hand.

Ardelia made a small humph. "Maybe they'll live happily ever after. You don't know."

"Yeah. Sure I don't. Just keep me away from your impossible fantasies."

A loud, passionate smack on the counter showed Ardelia's obvious frustration. "They are soulmates, dammit! How can you not see that those two are meant to be? With all the shit they've been through? Are you kidding me? They deserve happiness." Pause. "And a good hard fuck with each other. You know what? Fuck first, happily ever after second."

Charles shushed her harshly. "For fuck's sake, will you be quiet?"

The answering eye roll was nearly audible. "Oh, calm down, will ya? Clarice could sleep through a damn nuclear war on a normal day. That girl hasn't slept properly for at least five years now. She won't be waking up anytime soon."

"Maybe she would still be asleep if you two wouldn't talk so damn loud," Clarice called out, slightly slurring her words. Apparently she had fallen asleep with her mouth open. Ugh. It was like trying to talk through cotton balls.

 _Wonderful._

Charles cleared his throat. "Told you."

"Oh, fuck off. You're the one who started it, anyway."

"Me? You wouldn't shut up about it!"

" _You_ were the one flipping through channels like an asshole. There's this new thing called a guide button. You should study up on it."

"Let's not forget who made me stop when there were two minutes of an episode left. Two. Minutes. And we've been talking about it for…two hours? Jesus _Christ_."

"Exactly. _We_. Not just me. I rest my case."

"But two hours? Really? You are aware that's not normal, right? That usually people talk about a variety of topics in that sort of time frame?"

"Oh, please. Like anyone in this fucking room knows anything about being normal."

Clarice groaned loudly. "Goddammit, will you two stop bickering like children and just shut up?" She blindly groped around for a pillow. Upon finding one, she threw it in the relative direction of their voices. Or where she thought their voices were coming from. It hit a hard surface with a soft, anticlimactic pooft.

Ardelia snickered but Charles held his ground.

"How the hell are you one of the top marksmen for the FBI?"

The snickering evolved into a cackle. "Wasn't even _close_."

She finally opened her eyes and glared at her fiancé and her best friend. The kitchen was connected with the living room in one open area allowing for an easy stare down. The two idiots were staring innocently at her with barely concealed grins. Her eyes moved to the pillow which was embarrassingly far from them. Hell, it was closer to the front door than it was to them.

 _Goddammit._

Clarice sat up, hissing in pain as she unstuck her face from the metal spiral on the notebook she had been writing in. She rubbed the indented skin on her cheek with the arm that wasn't asleep from the awkward angle it had been in for however long she had been out of it. The stiffness in her neck refused to go away as she tried to crack it. Excellent. A crick. Just what she needed.

She swung her legs around and immediately regretted doing so. Most of the papers and files she had been looking through were already on the floor. The remainder joined their brothers and sisters on the ugly brown carpet. Everything was completely disorganized. She stared at the mess with narrowed, accusing eyes as if it was to blame for its creation.

 _Who the hell piled this shit on me?_

"Fuck you," she muttered to the chaos as she got up off the couch. Clarice stretched for a moment before shuffling sluggishly to the kitchen. She plopped on the high chair next to Charles at the counter and leaned her head against him. He, in turn, wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. "You really should know better than to let her watch 'X-Files'."

He raised his free hand up defensively. "Hey, I tried—"

"Nine seasons," Ardelia interrupted him, staring at her tea pitifully. "There are over twenty episodes per season. An hour long each. Since episode one, the sexual tension between Scully and Mulder has been ridiculous. I'm on season five. My sanity is gone, girl. All I got left at this point is the hope that they'll fuck in the future."

She rolled her eyes at her best friend's overdramatic words. Clarice carefully angled her head upward to look at Charles with a semi-stern expression. "Good luck getting her to talk about anything else for the next two weeks."

"Oh, I know." His humor-filled dark brown eyes flicked back to hers. "Why do you think I was flipping through the channels so quickly?"

"I don't know! Apparently, I missed all of that." She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "How long was I out?"

Ardelia cleared her throat. "Seven hours."

Clarice dropped her hands and looked over at her with raised brows. "Are you serious?" She fixed her stare on Charles again. "Why didn't either of you wake me?"

"You needed the sleep," he replied with a shrug.

"Don't you two understand? I need every second I can for this case! I can't sleep over a quarter of the day away and expect to gain any sort of advantage on those two psychotic assholes. We're talking about a—"

Ardelia switched to mom mode without missing a beat and cut her off. "Clarice Starling, when was the last time you slept?"

Honestly, she had no idea. "Um."

 _Good response. Really showing off that wit you apparently have._

"Exactly," her best friend responded crossing her arms over her chest. "Sleep allows for your mind to work properly. Considering who you're up against, you are going to need every brain cell working at a relatively functioning level. If you don't sleep, it'll take you even longer to solve this case. We'll help but I'm not doing your job for you."

Clarice sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine. You're right. I am up against a certifiable genius and a… well, hell, Black Widow is probably smart as fuck too. Lecter wouldn't voluntarily spend time with someone he didn't view as an equal in the intelligence department. She hasn't gotten caught yet so she knows what she's doing in regards to law enforcement and forensics—"

"Hold that profile for a second." Ardelia held up a single finger. "Did you just humble brag in my kitchen? Because that sort of behavior is not tolerated here."

"No." _Not intentionally, at least._ Clarice scrunched up her nose. "And when did this become _your_ kitchen? I cook in here too!"

 _Ha. Fucking liar._

"Uh huh." Her arms crossed over her chest. "Reheating leftover takeout doesn't count as cooking."

"I'll have you know I can cook a mean omelet," she replied defensively, mirroring Ardelia's movements as she too crossed her arms. "You've both tried it _and_ liked it as I recall!"

Charles leaned close to her and stage whispered, "Cariño, I hate to break it to you but omelets are right above frying eggs." Ardelia pointed at him as if his words were her closing statement.

God, she needed caffeine. She was clearly ill-equipped to handle their banter. "Will you two stop gaining up on me? I get enough of that at work."

As if reading her mind, Ardelia went to the cabinets to get some coffee grounds before prepping the machine. " _They_ are just being dicks. We do it out of love."

"Uh huh. Sure." She rolled her eyes and stifled another yawn. "Did you two at least get some amount of work done while I was asleep?"

Ardelia and Charles looked at each other for a moment. It was like they were playing a mental game of rock, paper, scissors. She rose a brow at him and he reluctantly withdrew his arm from Clarice. Ardelia was probably cooking his favorite meal. She was not above holding that over him. She was probably the one who covered her in the files.

As Charles gathered up their notes, Ardelia answered her question. "Yeah. When you crashed, we finished. Found out a lot more about the victims thanks to the techs. Seriously, man, whoever was assigned to this case before you was fucking atrocious at their job. It's like they couldn't be bothered to do any in-depth research."

"Why didn't you get the case?" Charles asked, returning to his seat with files and notebooks in tow.

Clarice shrugged, tracing over an intricate pattern on the countertop. "Well, by the time the FBI realized it was a serial, I was in the middle of working on Buffalo Bill. Honestly, the only reason anyone realized all of the cases were connected was Senator whatever's death. When he became her victim, the press took it and ran with it. Guess she wanted the attention off of Buffalo Bill and all to herself."

Ardelia started the coffee machine and leaned against the counter. "Actually, it got the attention came off of you too. I remember you making the paper a few times, being an FBI trainee and all. You were something like the first trainee to catch a serial killer? It's been years but I know the media was fawning over you for a week. Maybe she didn't like you getting the spotlight before her. She had been keeping it real low-key before that point."

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure she did it with me in mind," Clarice retorted sarcastically. "Because, obviously, _I'm_ the reason all serial killers do what they do. Couldn't _possibly_ be psychological or anything."

"Hey, you never know." She reached up grabbed two mugs. "They're all crazy anyway so who the hell really knows."

 _Not like it's my damn job to know why they're all crazy._

" _Anyway._ " Clarice gave her best friend a look. She really just wanted to get back on topic and not argue about it. "Lecter broke out about a week later and she was put on the media back burner again. Black Widow hid in the shadows for about a year after that. Come to think of it, they might have been in contact then." She sighed. "But we don't know. Not only that, but we can't know. They both know how to move undetected. All that we do know is directly after that, her killings became far more sporadic and deliberate. It's one of the reasons she hasn't been caught yet."

The other two soaked in that information quietly. Ardelia grabbed a few files and went through them. The sheer amount of victim folders could've induced a panic attack. Black Widow was a busy one. Thankfully, with her two idiots there to help her, the pressure had subsided a bit. The calming, delicious scent of the coffee brewing was a bonus.

Clarice did notice Ardelia biting on her tongue as she went over the files. It was something she did when she was trying her hardest to hold back something. She watched her roommate walk over to the coffee pot and pour some into the two mugs.

"What?"

Ardelia didn't even look up as she placed the mugs in front of Charles and Clarice. "You are gonna judge me so damn hard."

"Yeah, I don't think I have any right to judge anyone before they speak."

 _Lost that privilege years ago._

She sighed. "Okay, is it horrible of me to say that I love the work Black Widow is doing? I mean, not a single guy she killed was good in any way, shape, or form. Actually, she's eradicating the scumbag population—"

"Ardelia!" It was out of her mouth before Clarice could stop herself.

 _So much for not judging._

"What? They're all complete assholes. Every one of them. That fucking Senator she killed off a decade ago was apparently molesting his kids and beating his wife. A real fucking winner. And at least two of her other victims were rapists. Those were the ones I was looking at." Ardelia smacked the files in exasperation. "C'mon. You're telling me, as a woman, as a human being, that you can stand there and look at all the work she's done and not be rooting for her at least a tiny bit?"

"She has a point." Charles looked up from the notes. He had apparently been glancing over them while listening to their conversation. "I hate to say it but, can we really call any of them victims? Because I saw some sick shit in those files too. Those lab techs were actually voting among themselves to give this woman an award if she gets caught. Hell, I'm considering giving this woman a Batsuit and letting her have at it."

 _Well, shit. This is taking a turn._

"Okay, look." Clarice massaged her temples then looked at both of them individually. "We can all sit here and agree that what Black Widow is doing is good. Hell, she is doing good. I'm happy she got those scumbags off the streets. I'm happier they're dead. But our jobs aren't about what's good and what's bad. They're not even about what's right and what's wrong. Our jobs are about what's legal and what's illegal and catching the sons of bitches who do the latter."

Ardelia and Charles looked like they had just been told Santa Claus didn't exist. It was horrible but it was the truth. She had discovered it in therapy and it was world-changing. Clarice had been trying to fight alongside a system that couldn't give two shits about her morals. Even with that knowledge, she still had them. Kept her from becoming another Krendler, Pearsall, or Hemming. God knew the last thing she wanted to be was anything like them. It might kill her but Clarice would cling to that light. To the last remnants of her father.

 _What a cold, heartless world we live in._

"Damn, girl. That's just depressing as hell."

"And here I thought I was the cynical one of the group." He stared at his coffee. "You just made me reconsider my entire job."

"Sorry, guys. If we put her up on a pedestal like that, we won't have any motivation to catch her. It's probably why no one genuinely tried to catch her before. The true difference between Lecter and Black Widow is that Lecter has killed innocents. He might not consider them innocent but his opinion really doesn't matter in court. It's much easier to put the monster label on him. She has, technically, not killed a single 'innocent' person. Purposefully so. While Lecter's definition of 'guilty' is one of his own making, Black Widow's definition is much more aligned with the majority of society."

"Okay, okay. Fine. Let's do this stupid, soul-sucking job." Ardelia hopped up on the counter, carefully swinging her legs around to avoid knocking over the files. Clarice internally sighed out of relief. Her best friend was finally being serious. Without her, Clarice never would've caught Buffalo Bill. She was truly an invaluable resource.

Ardelia took a sip of tea before continuing. "Before you conked out, you were updating her profile. But that was before Charles and I gathered the rest of the information. What else do we know about her based on all this shit?"

"Okay, um…" Clarice looked on the table for her notebook then remembered it was still on the couch. She, not so gracefully, slid off the chair and jogged over to the couch. As she walked back to the kitchen, her eyes scanned over the information she had already written down. Some of it was completely illegible. Her mentally exhausted state had led her to create an entirely new language. A frustrated frown adorned her lips as Clarice scratched things out wildly. Next to none of it was helpful.

 _What do we know?_

 _No idea_.

There needed to be organization. Had to. Yeah, the folders were organized but she needed to see all of it. Just staring at the blocks of scribbled information was not doing her any good. Clarice couldn't even do basic victimology with the chaos displayed before her.

She glanced up at them. "We need to organize all of this."

An hour and the entire coffee pot later, the apartment had gone through some redecorating. One of the living room walls was mostly covered with the papers inside the folders. Victim photographs, various reports, and written notes had replaced the minimum decorations. Clarice felt calmer looking at the controlled order the three of them had created. Each of Black Widow's victims had a vertical column dedicated to them and they were placed in chronological order of discovery. It bothered her a bit that the first few might be out of order but there wasn't anything she could do about it.

Clarice hadn't bothered with Lecter. It would only stir her up. While he had an official profile on file, Black Widow had never gotten the honor. No one had given enough of a damn. She walked around and took notes of similarities while Charles and Ardelia watched from the couch.

On the surface, none of the victims seemed to be connected. But the more she looked at them, the more dots began to connect themselves.

"Interesting," she mumbled to herself.

Ardelia spoke up. "Alright. Spill. What do you know?"

"As I said before, Black Widow has to know police and forensic procedures. There's no possible way she could be active for over a decade —no, sorry, two decades— and not be familiar with how law enforcement works. Initially, I thought she had to be an officer or maybe a criminal justice major. The fact that the men she chose were uncaught criminals only added to that theory. But that's actually impossible. She would never go into criminal justice as a career. Her personality wouldn't allow it."

Charles tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"Law enforcement is made up of mostly men, right?" Both of them nodded. "Judging by her victims, her problems stem from something to do with a male authority figure. She would never put herself in a situation where a man would have control over her. It would be unbearable for her."

"So, she feels the need to control all men. Look," Ardelia got off the couch and gestured to the victim pictures. "The victims are all different. They're a mix races, religions, and incomes. If she was wanting to relive killing one, specific man, wouldn't they all look relatively the same?"

"That's what I thought too. I was a bit confused when we started putting up all the photos. Serial killers usually have a type. Particularly the highly organized ones. She's willing to study them enough to know they're all criminals. Randomly killing therefor wouldn't make sense. But what could be connecting all the victims together?" Clarice handed her the notebook. "That's when I saw their martial statuses."

Ardelia sat back on the sofa's arm with Charles looking around her. She had written down each victim's name and marked down their statuses. "She's going after married men?"

"No, look," he pointed to a few of the names. "Some aren't married. They don't fit the pattern."

"If we dug deep enough, I guarantee you that those listed as 'single' were dating someone. No legal documents force people to say if they're just in a relationship which is why they appear to be single. In fact, I'm sure she purposefully mixed them up to throw us off her trail."

"Smart criminals are goddamn annoying," Ardelia grumbled as she handed back the notebook.

"Preaching to the choir, hun," Clarice replied with a grimace. "Now that we know there is something linking the victims, we move onto why. Why would she choose men who were in a relationship?"

"Hang on." Charles got up and walked over to the wall. "When I was looking over the autopsy reports, I noticed all of mine were found in sketchy motels. Spread eagle on the bed with a body part missing. I thought it was a weird. They were put on display. No covers or anything. I know if I was found dead like that, it would be humiliating."

"Same with all of the victims I covered," Ardelia commented staring at the wall. "The reports also said there were indications that they had had sex right before they died. Not that Black Widow would be nice enough to leave any of her succubus DNA at the scene. Something about the body chemistry." She gestured dismissively with her hand. "Blah blah, science shit, nobody cares."

"So they were cheating," Charles concluded, glancing at Clarice. "All the victims were cheating on their wives and girlfriends before Black Widow killed them."

Clarice smiled proudly at them. Words couldn't describe how grateful she was to have them their with her. "Exactly. They betrayed the women they were supposed to be loyal to. I'd even wager she gave them plenty of chances to not go through with it."

"Okay, hold on a second." Ardelia's eyes narrowed as she tried to understand what Clarice was saying. "Are you trying to tell me that Black Widow wants them to be loyal? Why seduce them at all then? If she doesn't want them to cheat, why would she try to get them to do just that? Isn't that completely counterintuitive?"

Clarice opened her mouth but Charles answered as he sat back down. "A truly loyal man wouldn't give her the time of day. She might try to seduce him but if he genuinely cares about his girlfriend or wife, he would shoot her down." His eyes flickered in her direction and gave her a not-so-subtle wink.

She bit her lip in an attempt to hide her smirk and failed miserably.

 _Smart, smart man._

"Betrayal would need to be a constant theme in her life. Multiple male authority figures. Not just one. It explains why she's not going after a group of similar looking men as several different ones have led her to becoming so broken. An individual has to go through deep, constant pain to stray this far from humanity." Clarice tilted her head to the side. "The first was probably her father. I don't know about the rest but he most likely made the first cut. What he did to her… I'm not sure. The frivolous sexual intercourse part of her murder ritual by itself screams father issues. It's a form of rebellion."

Ardelia shook her head. "Rebelling against dad is one thing. Happens to the best of us —shut that trap of yours, Charles." He promptly closed his mouth. "Now, murder and cannibalism are kinda a whole 'nother level. Murder is illegal, obviously, and cannibalism is a societal taboo. In my opinion, she's flown straight past some who cares teenage rebellion and right into Straightjacket-ville."

"What her dad did to her only started her down this path. She's not doing it with him in mind. Hell, she might not even be aware of his impact on her. She might be in denial of it. This was years upon years in the making. It didn't happen overnight. Someone made her snap. Who did it might not even be relevant to catching her."

The three fell into a studious silence. Clarice felt pretty confident in her current profile but several pieces were still missing. She had only just begun to get into the mind of this woman. She was still no closer to knowing who the murderess was.

"Why did they call her Black Widow?"

Charles's question pulled her out of her daze. "Most people believe female black widow spiders eat their mates once they've mated. Tell ya the truth, I thought the same until yesterday. Went to visit Pilcher and Roden and they told me whole thing is a myth. Didn't stop the media from giving her the name though. Catchy, malicious sounding name for a serial killer is always good for ratings."

He nodded and focused back on the wall of paper. Ardelia looked over at her. "Why does she take a piece of her victims togo? Other than obvious cannibal reasons."

She tapped her pen against her notebook. "I've been thinking about it. From what we already know about her, I would guess that she sees it as the ultimate form of dominance. She ensnared her prey, got it where she wanted it, and then proceeds to consume it." Clarice shrugged. "They hold no more power over her after consumption."

"Alright. Fair enough. But there's something else I don't get." Ardelia crossed her arms over her chest. "If she has this big vendetta against male authoritative figures, why the hell would she team up with Lecter? I would imagine he'd be one of the last people she'd want around. I'm sure she would hate the fact that he indirectly announced their relationship to the world with that letter."

Clarice hated that she internally winced at it being called a relationship.

"True. She was managing to stay on the FBI's back burner until then. Can't imagine she appreciated being forced into the spotlight like that."

"You think he told her?"

Charles snorted causing both of them to look at him. "I bet he didn't. Bet she heard it on the news and whooped his ass."

The mental image of some mystery seductress smacking around Lecter was so absurd, it made them laugh. "She gotta better deal than me. I got dispatch radioing me, telling me my fiancé is on the national news. No details of course cause that woman hates me."

Clarice gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry about that. I was gonna tell you at dinner. Hell, Ardelia and I were still talking about it when you called me. Clint apparently wasted no time." She ran a hand through her auburn locks. "I still can't believe he would stoop so low. I knew he was an ass but leaking that information was a whole new level of dickbag."

"Girl, fuck Clint," Ardelia said aggressively. "He better be happy he got off so light with that unpaid suspension. Thought for sure that Noonan was gonna kill the stupid, petty bastard. I'm still thinking about killing him."

"You're gonna need to get in line."

Clarice could feel the tension building in the room. She really needed to disperse the situation before it got worse. They were great friends but they were also quite protective. The last thing she needed was the two of them going to prison. "How about we plan his murder another day? Alright?"

Ardelia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever," she mumbled.

She looked to Charles. "Alright?"

He huffed and relaxed. "Fine. I'll just buy one of the meter maids lunch and have his car towed or something. I won't kill him. Yet."

Clarice kept her narrowed eyes on him for a few seconds longer until she was satisfied. "Now, to answer your question," she turned back to Ardelia. "I have no goddamn idea."

 _Helpful._

"Right? It doesn't make any sense." Ardelia got off the couch, clearly needed to get rid of her built up frustrated energy. "Everything else works. But those two being together is just pissing me off. They are two highly intelligent narcissists. They shouldn't be together. They shouldn't even be able to be around the other. I keep putting their profiles beside each other in my head and I come to the same conclusion. No fucking way could they be in a relationship or whatever serial killers do together. They'd be more likely to kill each other. God, none of this makes sense."

"Maybe the hate fucking is just that good," commented Charles. Not quite back to serious investigator yet.

"Charles, don't make me smack you." She snapped her fingers in front of Clarice's face impatiently. The coffee and tea combination was hitting Ardelia hard. "I can hear those gears turning, hun. Tell me what you're thinking."

Clarice's head jerked up and her vision focused on Ardelia. She had heard everything they'd said. Yeah, it was stupid. No, it didn't make sense. _What if…_ "I agree with you."

"You wouldn't be on another planet mentally if that was the case."

"Okay!" There was no arguing with her. "What if he trusted her?"

Ardelia scoffed disbelievingly. "Lecter doesn't trust anyone. That's like paragraph two in his profile. A profile that _you_ wrote, I might add."

 _No need to be a bitch. Damn._

She kept her temper in check. Ardelia's frustration had eaten away the remainder of her patience. "I'm familiar with what my profile says."

 _Very familiar._

 _Maybe_ too _familiar._

 _Way too fucking familiar, actually._

"But what if this trust was built over years?" she continued as her mind went a thousand miles an hour. Thoughts and emotions she truly wanted to never ponder on broke through.

She didn't want any of it.

 _Fuck off._

"Think about it. Black Widow would accept him for who and what he was. She would understand him on a level no one else could as a fellow serial killer and cannibal. A loyalty like no other."

 _I could've—_

 _No, you couldn't. And you won't. So shut up._

" _That_ makes sense," Charles said slowly. Thankfully, he was back to being serious. His eyes narrowed at the wall. "Wait a second—"

"Oh, my god." Ardelia covered her mouth with her hand. Both of them were having lightbulb moments. "Her first documented kill happened when he was at Baltimore State…"

"Not surprising but that wasn't the final straw." Clarice shrugged and shifted her stance. She was feeling a bit fidgety too. "Hell, maybe it was to get his approval. She didn't feel betrayed by him. He wasn't one of her victims for a reason. Something else happened. Someone else broke her."

"Okay, no. That's not what I meant. The timeline fits—"

"No, no, shut up. Look at the crime scene photos." Charles got off the couch. Even he couldn't sit still. They could all sense they were on the cusp of a big breakthrough. "After he broke out, her killing evolved. It became more vicious and ruthless. There's passionate rage behind these kills rather than clinical aloofness. Lecter might not have been why she started killing but there's a direct correlation here. Has to be. Why else would she change?"

"'Loyalty like no other'." Ardelia's body turned towards Clarice with raised brows. "What if she's jealous?"

 _Uh oh._

Clarice was getting a bad feeling. She knew she wasn't going to like where this was heading.

"What? Why?"

 _Don't play dumb. We know why._

Charles picked up where Ardelia left off. "That trust Lecter has for her would be returned, yeah?"

"Sure." She shook herself mentally out of her semi-frazzled state. "I mean, yes, probably."

"But instead of returning to her, he went after you."

Clarice felt like all the breath was knocked out of her.

 _Oh, shit._

 _No no no no no…_

"That's what I've been trying to say!" Ardelia all but yelled at them. The couple looked at her. Once she had their attention, she took a breath and lowered her voice. "The timeline fits. Imagine. Young woman growing up. She's betrayed by all men who hold any amount of power over her. Then, a suave, sophisticated, educated man— fuck it. I'll bite the bullet. A _handsome_ , suave, sophisticated, educated man enters her life." She made a gagging sound. Probably for effect. "He showers her with everything she's ever wanted and more. Because of this, a relatively unbreakable bond of loyalty starts to form towards him. She trusts him. She'll do anything for him. Maybe she even loves him. And she's under the impression that this bond she and Lecter share is a two-way street. But then a young FBI trainee enters Lecter's life and captures his attention. He breaks outta prison and goes after his new obsession. His obsession wants nothing to do with him. All while the woman who's been nothing but loyal to him gets to hear about Muskrat Farms and Chesapeake Bay on the news. What do you think that does to someone like her?"

Charles's eyes went wide as her words dawned on him. "Holy shit."

Ardelia pointed to him. "Exactly." Her attention went back to Clarice. "Black Widow interprets Lecter's whole ordeal with you as him cheating on her. He now fits her criteria to a T."

A pit was forming in Clarice's stomach. She felt ill. The immense enjoyment that came with psychoanalyzing serial killers was gone.

Was it because he was in danger?

She didn't want to know.

"But she hasn't killed Lecter." Was that a hint of fear in her voice? Fuck. "At least not that we know of—"

"Yeah _but_ ," Ardelia cut in. "Remember what you said about her profile? She gives all the men numerous chances to prove they're loyal to the women they're with."

"Fine. Let's go with this train of thought." Clarice inhaled sharply before saying her next words. "I'm not trying to seduce Lecter. I'm not trying to take him away from her. _I_ don't fit into this equation. That part isn't a reality."

"What's real and what's imaginary to you and me doesn't matter right now," Ardelia replied, sympathy seeping into her voice. "To Black Widow, you are the other woman, Clarice. You are the only thing standing between her and her happily ever after with Lecter."

 _Well, that's just great._

* * *

 **A/N: Dun dun dunnnnnn!**

 **Ardelia's love for the X-Files came from a conversation with my best friend involving being an FBI agent and loving the X-Files. It would be criminal for someone to not have called Clarice 'Scully' with her sass, brilliance, red hair, and FBI-ness.**

 **Fun fact: The emblem of the Knights of the Round Table included a red dragon. It was the Red Dragon of King Arthur and it represented the Knights devotion to their king. Always thought that was amusing after reading/watching Red Dragon.**

 **Feedback is always appreciated!**

 **Ta ta,**

 **Dreamiest Nightmare**


	7. Chapter 6 - Could Be Worse

**A/N: Thank you for those who reviewed! I'm glad everyone is enjoying this story!**

 **This story is now rated "M" considering the language and suggestive themes.**

 **Got rid of the song lyrics because I found out that having them in this was copyright** **infringement. (Whoops.) I also c** **hanged a few of the chapter titles. The new ones fit better in my opinion. Sorry for any confusion these changes have brought.**

 **Disclaimer: Look to the Prologue for it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Could Be Worse**

Clarice walked back to her new office armed with three mugs. She hadn't shifted from her deadpan expression since the completion of Black Widow's profile. Which was two weeks ago now? Ten days? Maybe? Did she care? Hell no.

The search for Black Widow's identity had quickly become one of the most infuriating tasks Clarice had ever experienced. Trying to get straight answers out of Lecter all those years ago was child's play compared to this. Since Lecter's capture, avid researchers, ambitious grad students, and fame-hungry psychologists had been working tirelessly to create an all inclusive biography on Lecter. Not one of them was successful. Obviously.

Clarice, Charles, and Ardelia had spent most of their time on digging into maybes. A lot of their information came from seeing Lecter's name with somebody else's and then tumbling down the rabbit hole only to smack into a dead end. As broad as a "thirty to forty year old white woman" might be in the realm of descriptions, no one was fitting it. Too old, male, dead. And that was the small collection of people they had managed to get information on.

The whole damn thing was giving her a headache.

Once again, a serial killer had decided to drag her into their fantasy. A fantasy that was ludicrous. And damn stupid.

She was _not_ jealous. Not in the slightest. The Lecter voice in her head from her lingering PTSD insisted on a different story. Much like the real Lecter, that voice seemed to be under the impression that if he was persistent enough, Clarice would fall into his arms.

Right. Okay.

Yeah, for one second, she had considered doing it. Just one.

But could anyone really blame her? A gorgeous man had her pinned against a refrigerator and was gazing at her like he wanted to ravage her body for the foreseeable future.

Maybe it was kinda hot.

Maybe it made her a little horny.

Fucking sue her.

Yeah, yeah, she could rationalize it 'til she was dead but it didn't stop the infinite amount of self-hatred following it. Nothing beneficial came from that lapse of judgement. Knowing her luck, Lecter was feeding off that single moment. Probably using it to keep up the illusion that she wanted to run off with him.

 _I came halfway around the world… to watch you run, Clarice._

Obviously, Lecter had discovered the secret to a woman's heart.

Being a creepy, stalking fucko.

 _How romantic._

Clarice rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time, no doubt breaking some kind of record in the process. Her constantly foul mood had left her rolling her eyes at pretty much everything. Normally, someone in her position might be afraid or worried for their safety. In fact, that's what she should be experiencing. But, quite frankly, she really couldn't be bothered. With anything.

Which is probably why she decided kicking her own door was a better route to take than dealing with the retina, fingerprint, and voice recognition security system.

A loud crash came from inside. She could just barely hear Charles grumbling loudly in Spanish. From what Clarice could understand through the door, he was going through the entire alphabet of swear words. The door jerked open and a barely mentally available Charles poked his head out. A large red mark combined with wrinkles imprints matching the ones on his sleeve adorned his cheek and forehead. Glazed over brown eyes and parted lips gave him the look of a recently turned zombie. His dark curls seemed as if they couldn't figure out whether to be a chaotic mess or matted down.

"Cariño," Charles muttered as he leaned on the door frame. "If you woke me up because you're too damn lazy to go through the security measures, I will—" His gaze dropped down to the coffee and his whole mood shifted. "Shower you in my love until the day I die."

She snorted at his change of heart and handed him him mug before entering her office. "Uh huh."

He shut the door and walked around her to a couple of overturned chairs. Guilt seeped into her chest. Charles hadn't been being dramatic after all. Her laziness had actually woke him up. She could imagine Charles toppling over to the floor as he scrambled to get into a fighting stance. His less than welcoming greeting was easily forgivable considering, well, he didn't even have to be there. Hell, he didn't even work there.

Progress in finding the identity of Black Widow had been infuriatingly lacking. Every time a possible breakthrough seemed to be within their reach, it was cruelly snatched away from them. The amount of dead ends they had dealt with was enough to make any investigator go mad.

Clarice had gone on a caffeine run for the sake of their collective sanity but found herself meandering mindless through the building. Before she knew it, fifteen minutes had gone by. Clarice had tried to be upset with herself but she honestly couldn't. After a while with limited sleep, time had a tendency to blur together.

Ardelia had yet to move. The only thing that had changed was the file folder she had been looking at was now on the ground a few feet from her. Most likely thrown out of frustration. Her best friend was sprawled out on top of Clarice's desk with the same half-dead expression Charles had. Her legs were somewhat awkwardly bent as if she had tried to fit on the desk but gave up and let them dangle off the edge. One of her arms was tucked underneath her head while the other fidgeted with Clarice's Newton's cradle.

Ardelia had bought the thing years ago for Clarice's desk. Her reasoning had been along the lines of 'You're a big shot FBI agent now. You gotta have one of these. For the sake of professionalism.' It was obviously not a serious gift but looking at it gave her a reason to smile. Unfortunately, all that sacredness was lost within the first week as a bunch of her fellow agents took it upon themselves to constantly make Newton's balls jokes.

Clarice noticed that her cell phone was still face up beside Ardelia's face as the voice of Jack Crawford came through the speaker. It was the same droning lecture he was on when Clarice did a walk out to get the three of them a much needed caffeine boost.

"With all due respect, sir," Ardelia mumbled out, slurring her words just a bit. "If you try to put her under constant surveillance, you'll be inviting a tiger to an open buffet."

Crawford didn't say anything and for a blissful second, Clarice thought he just hung up. Then he spoke again. _Dammit_. "Agent Mapp, can you hand the phone to Agent Starling?"

Another eye roll.

Clarice picked up her phone and replaced it with Ardelia's mug. She had just enough left of her final damn to mute the phone call. "You're relieved, Agent Mapp" Clarice told her best friend, mocking Crawford's voice. Ardelia was far too tired for her bullshit and gave her an unamused look. She shifted her position to a more upright one and sipped grumpily on her tea. Clarice shook her head at Ardelia's antics and sat down in her chair.

"Starling, you _are_ aware that I'm your boss, right?"

Yet another eye roll. Someone should really call up Guinness World Records. Clarice unmuted her end of the call before responding. "Yes, sir," she said offhandedly.

"And that I can fire you?"

Clarice tapped on the ice cube in her coffee, only half paying attention. It was a completely empty threat. The FBI had been trying to get rid of her for years yet here she was. "Yes, sir."

"And that I am fully aware you had Agent Mapp respond to me with barely intelligible english while you were off doing god-knows-what?"

That one she did not know. Not that she was going to let him know that.

"Sir, considering I've gotten a grand total of fourteen hours of sleep over the last ten days, I don't think you should be expecting a helluva lot of professionalism. Especially when you're going on about something I've made my opinion perfectly clear on." Pause. "Sir."

An exasperated sigh came from the phone. His irritation was radiating out of the speaker. "Look, I understand that being under police protection isn't your favorite thing but it's for your safety. If you're right about the profile—"

"No, no, sir, I fucked it up on purpose."

He ignored her smartass remark. "—then Black Widow wants you gone. You might find it hard to believe but I _do_ care about you."

Ardelia, who had still been taking a drink, made a demonic noise, jerked backwards, and then proceeded to crash onto the floor as she overestimated how much desk space there was. The, thankfully, almost empty mug of tea went with her as did the calendar, various papers and at least half of Clarice's case folders. She groaned in pain and massaged her nose pitifully.

"What the hell was that?"

Clarice raised an eyebrow but made no move to help Ardelia. "An idiot."

"Fuck off," came the nasally response from the ground.

"Might wanna try not snorting your tea next time."

"Yeah, sorry. Left my coke in my million dollar mansion. Had to make do."

The corners of her lips might have curled upward at Ardelia's sarcasm. Clarice put her feet up on the desk where Ardelia had been and leaned back in her chair. She balanced her phone on her thigh so she could hold her mug with both hands. "Sir, Black Widow won't kill me. In fact, she won't lay a finger on me. The second she does anything bad to me, Lecter is done with her. She won't risk that. And Lecter, of course, won't do anything to me except be a taunting asshole. He's too smart to try and pull Chesapeake Bay the sequel. I'm _fine_."

As surprising as that might be, she really was fine.

As ironic as it was, she was rooting for Black Widow and Lecter to be a thing. They had Clarice's blessing for whatever that was worth. Lecter's letter was most likely a bluff to try and make Clarice jealous.

 _Ha_.

But, if that relationship truly did happen, Lecter would stop giving her attention and Black Widow wouldn't want to see her dead. Clarice could go back to giving fuck all about Lecter and live out a normal-ish life. A win-win in her book.

 _Killing two birds with one stone._

Unfortunately, her honest take on the matter only made the situation even more absurd.

Crawford disagreed because of course he did. "I don't like it. You're putting an awful lot of faith in two psychopat—" Before she could correct him, he did it himself. "—in two serial killers."

Might as well be talking to a damn wall.

And the biggest eye roll of the night made its appearance. "Sir, it's my job to know how these two think. I wouldn't be putting my life in unnecessary danger. I think we can both agree I've had quite enough of that, sir."

"Starling, you don't have a choice in this." His voice had an air of tired finality. It was around eleven. Probably past the old man's bedtime—

Wait.

Did he just say…

 _Are you fucking serious?_

Crawford had her full attention now. She gritted her teeth behind pursed lips while somehow managing to not lose her cool. Nothing short of a miracle considering her sleep deprivation. "May I ask why you didn't mention that an hour ago, _sir_?"

"Perhaps you should to talk to Agent Mapp. I'm sure she can give you a vivid recount of our conversation."

Clarice frowned at his words and looked down at her phone. "Sir—" Her lock screen greeted her. He'd hung up. Apparently, Crawford had become as annoyed with the circling conversation as she had. "God _dammit_. Passive aggressive bastard."

"Looks like he's taking lessons from you."

She slowly scooted up her chair enough so she could see Ardelia. "Maybe if _someone_ had been paying attention to his words—"

"Get off that high horse, girl." The no nonsense tone made her eyebrows raise. Damn. "Don't you go forgetting that you fucking bounced cause you got so bored talking to him. Charles and I have been working our butts off —in our spare time, by the way— trying to figure out who this spider bitch is. We're just as exhausted as you. If you're gonna complain about something, do it on Lecter."

"Yeah, can we bitch about that asshole for a minute?" Both of their gazes cut over to Charles who had returned to his makeshift couch. The two chairs were back to facing each other. His back was flat against the two chairs and his legs stuck out through the space under the arms. Fingers were locked behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. An empty mug lay overturned on the ground near him. "Why do I get the feeling that this guy was prepared to get caught at a moment's notice? Because I can't find anything involving him with others."

Ardelia sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Same. I'm convinced all those rich people he used to run around with just paid a million dollar fee to have it erased from record or something."

Charles whistled the X-Files theme but Clarice stopped the situation from spiraling out of control. "You. Shut up." She turned to Ardelia who's mouth was open. "You. Close your damn mouth."

A few seconds went by before Ardelia's words made it from her ears to her brain. The gears of her mind were apparently jammed. "No. Wait. What did you say?"

"What? My conspiracy theory? Are you serious?"

"No, no." She waved her hand dismissively. "Why did you say 'rich people'?"

It was Ardelia's turn to roll her eyes. "Well, who the fuck else would Lecter entertain for his pretentious-ass dinner parties? Not normal ass people. Rich people. Probably rich _white_ people but we'll never fucking know cause there's nothing fucking there!" Out of frustration, she threw some papers she had been laying on. The papers, in turn, did their equivalent to a middle finger and came right back to her.

"Can you really blame them though?" _Charles, this is not the time to be rational._ "I'd imagine anyone's reputation takes a huge hit when the world finds out you've been socializing with a serial killer. And eating his victims."

"No, I can't. I just…" Ardelia sighed out of annoyance. Her mood shifts were starting to worry Clarice. She was used to no sleep but Ardelia wasn't. Neither was Charles. She appreciated their help but they'd really been stretched thin lately.

"I am just so damn tired of these stupid smart serial killers, man," she continued. "Lecter was a bitch to deal with all on his own but now, with this Black Widow…" Ardelia shook her head. "She's this whole other level, okay? That woman somehow managed to charm her way into this building. Probably with actual black magic since none of the security guards she dealt with could give a matching, or even remotely similar, description. Not even the metal detector guy —who had a full blown conversation with her and everything— was helpful. She's white with blonde hair and brown eyes. Okay. Yeah, I'm sure that wasn't a wig and contacts. So, in reality, all we got on her is that she's white. And, let's see, you remember nothing else about her? Just that she was hot? Very helpful, thank you." Another eye roll. "And then she also manages to know the most vulnerable place in the entire fucking building? How? That's not information some asshole can just Google. Hell, I work here and I didn't know that until this ordeal."

Charles raised his hand, still on his back. "Yeah, I got another question. Why the hell does the FBI have a fucking waiting room?"

"It's unofficially called 'The Appointment Room'," Clarice answered before drinking some of her now cold coffee. All that was needed to make it more dramatic was a rumble of thunder and a loud organ.

Laughter erupted into the air from Charles. "'The Appointment Room'?" The words were barely intelligible as he continued to laugh. "Sounds like a shitty horror movie."

A smack came from the floor. "Goddammit!"

The sudden noise startled Charles and Clarice. Clarice almost flipped herself backwards out of her fancy swivel chair and Charles almost ended up in the floor for the second time that night. They both ended up speaking angrily at the same time.

"What?!"

"Could ya maybe fuckin' not?!"

 _Whoa, girl. Twanging a bit hard there._

Ardelia held up a hand with her eyes closed. She looked like a fake psychic trying to 'feel' if demons or ghosts were around. "You two calm down."

"You _started_ it—"

"Doesn't matter." She put down her hand. "What does matter is if this is a horror movie, I'm gonna be the first to go."

Clarice gave her a long, judgmental look. She was sure Charles was doing the same.

"Okay, what the fuck was in that tea?" Pause. "And where can I get some?"

Clarice had had about enough. The derailment had been amusing at first but the conversational train was so far from the tracks that it was on a different planet. "Shut up." Ardelia opened her mouth again. "Both of you. No one's dying. This isn't a horror movie."

Charles looked at Ardelia from around one of his chairs then they both cut up. Clarice dropped her head in her hands. There was no hope for the conversation now.

"Oh, yeah. 'No one's dying'. Says the white girl," he teased her through chuckles.

"Right?" Ardelia chortled. " _Super_ reassuring."

He managed to sober up quicker than she did. "Seriously though. If anyone's gonna get offed first, it's me."

"Listen." Psychic Ardelia was back. Hands and everything. Clarice really did need to look at that tea bag. "Black people always die first in horror movies. You're only half black therefore you will have the privilege of going second. That is the nature of horror movies."

Charles scoffed. "Right. Let me just call and thank my mamá for that gracious honor."

Clarice's head shot up from her hands. "God, no. We'll be here for the rest of the night listening to her scream into the phone. I am not in the mood to deal with her trying to convince us to change the wedding location again."

Just her luck that she came off too harsh. Dammit.

"She doesn't scream," he muttered defensively, obviously pouting a bit. "She just speaks loudly."

A few moments went by before Ardelia strangely enough decided to put the conversation back on the tracks.

"What the hell were we talking about?"

"'The Appointment Room'."

"Oh, right." She glanced away from Charles and back to Clarice. "Did you want to say something about it?"

"Yes." _For the last several minutes, in fact. You know, while you assholes were being... assholes._ "I heard some of the higher ups talking about how stupid it was earlier today. Apparently, it was made as an extra security measure or something. It's for citizens and students to wait in if they want to talk to an agent or teacher. But no one uses it because no one publicly knows about it. It's a complete waste of money."

A loud snort came from Ardelia. "That is _impressively_ stupid. Even for the FBI."

Charles groaned and sat up, placing his chin on the back of the chair. "Well, that explains why no one realized the security cameras had stopped working. And why the receptionist was able to take a three hour lunch break and no one gave a damn."

"Yep." Clarice put down her mug. "I also heard that the receptionist didn't even close the door all the way when she left on that long-ass lunch break so Black Widow literally just strolled in."

No, of course it didn't bother her at all that someone who wanted her dead could apparently access the first floor with ease. Not like the BAU was on the first floor too or anything. Not like the Appointment Room was also on the first floor and created a direct line to her former desk.

Nothing to worry about at all.

"For the love of—" Charles's forehead not so gently hit the top of the chair. "Please tell me they fired her."

"Oh, yeah." Clarice vehemently nodded. _And good fucking riddance._

"Did you manage to get a look at her?" Ardelia craned her head upward to look at her. "She looked like she fell off a low budget porn movie set."

Clarice couldn't help but laugh. God, did it feel good to laugh.

"There she is," Charles teased with a small, tired smirk on his lips. "Our girl has returned to us."

"Finally. She's been putting up resting bitch face for almost two weeks now. Or was it less than that? Fuck if I remember when we finished that profile on Mrs. Lecter."

Her roommate's words sent the three of them into giggles. They'd been giving Black Widow different nicknames out of the sheer boredom of saying her 'serial killer' name over and over again. Ardelia was hands down the best at it.

"Well, if it wasn't for our new serial killer, I wouldn't have gotten this fancy as hell office. So," Clarice raised her mug at nothing in particular. "Cheers for that, bitch."

"About damn time. Though Crawford kinda went overboard with the security." Ardelia raised her brows at Clarice mockingly. "Maybe he _does_ care."

"No, he doesn't. At most, he feels guilty about wheeling me out to Lecter like a—"

"Lamb for the slaughter!" Clarice slowly turned her head to Charles and gave him a withering stare. "Oh, come _on._ Don't be mad _,_ cariño. That was easily the best joke I've ever told. Probably the best one I'll ever come up with."

Ardelia snickered and tried to muffle it behind her hand. "That was fucking brilliant. Pitch black on the humor spectrum but brilliant nonetheless."

 _Well, this has devolved into a mess._

"Okay, I can see the night is clearly going to continue on downhill." Clarice stood up and drained the rest of her coffee. "Time for us to go home, you two."

"Sleep? What is that?"

"Is it food? Sounds german."

Clarice sighed, helping Ardelia off the ground as Charles put back the chairs. "Would you two just shut up?"

They shrugged in unison. "Maybe. Maybe not." Ardelia gave her a half smile and picked up all the shit she had knocked off. She haphazardly placed them on the desk.

"You know I hate having my things disorganized, right?"

"Yep," was Ardelia's only reply as she walked over to the door where Charles was. "But we both know you're too tired to be your usual OCD self."

Clarice didn't say anything but she did walk over to them. Ardelia was right. She was far too exhausted to deal with that mess.

After closing up, the three of them walked through the relatively empty halls. Seconds of silence ticked on by until Ardelia broke it before they reached the metal detector.

"You know," she began. "There was a name that stuck out a bit. Maybe its cause I spent like five minutes trying to pronounce it. I don't know. I mean, it's a dead end but I still wanna check it out again tomorrow."

"Is that the murder house one?"

"Yeah."

They both fell silent as the three of them went through the metal detector and Charles turned in his visitor's pass. They continued to walk to the elevator in silence. It slowly dawned on Clarice that she had absolutely no idea what the hell they were talking about as she scanned her ID badge to get the elevator to move. It dinged and the three of them walked inside it. As Clarice hit the button for the second sub basement floor, she spoke. "I'm ready anytime you two want to give out an explanation."

"Oh, right. You weren't there." Ardelia took a deep breath before answering. "The whole family was murdered. Brutal shit. It's unsolved but the autopsy report says the all three members of the family were killed prior to the fire. The weirdest part of the whole thing was they found metal shackles in the remains of the house. No clue why. Any other evidence went up with the house."

The elevator dinged open, halting the conversation as they entered the parking garage underneath the Quantico building. Soon, they were outside its walls and Clarice felt like she could properly breathe again.

"Hold on a second." Charles looked over at Ardelia with confusion written across his features. "They're all dead. Why do you want to look into it? Do you think she did it?"

"No, no. The Widowed Wonder didn't do it. Doesn't fit her MO at all." Ardelia shook her head. "It bothers me because the daughter would fit perfectly within the age range for her to be Black Widow. Trust me, discovering she was dead was easily the most annoying thing I found out today." She sighed. "Thought I had hit a real breakthrough."

Charles tossed Clarice the keys. She wasn't about to let him get behind the wheel.

The drive back was a relatively short and quiet one. When they were about five minutes away, Clarice adjusted the rearview mirror and looked at Ardelia in the backseat. "Out of curiosity, what was the name of the family in the 'murder house'?"

"Chi—fuck. Um, wait. Chi-cot-tea-low. Chikatilo? I think that's how it's pronounced." Ardelia met her eyes. "Why?"

Something didn't sit well with Clarice about that name. Each syllable made her skin crawl. She simply chalked it up to her sleep deprivation draining away the final pieces of her sanity. Her eyes returned to the road. "No reason."

* * *

 **A/N: For those who don't know, the word 'sleep' is of a germanic origin. Apparently. I think. If not, I blame Google.**

 **Ever try holding a linear conversation when all three people are sleep deprived? It doesn't happen.**

 **Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Any feedback is appreciated.**

 **Ta ta,**

 **Dreamiest Nightmare**


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